A Child Jabbers Spondees

Its feet are tiny dimeter, Body, spirit, soul, trimeter, Would you look at those ears and eyes Whose tetrameter rhyme defies Its foot with pentameter toes, Smelled by monometer nose! Don’t fret when its iamb voice speaks Cheerful quatrains for days and weeks. Stand still while it jabbers spondee, In stanzas of metered trochee. Well, my friend, please do not pretend, Or you’ll cause more stress at the end. Each verse it speaks is oh, so sweet For it’s growing Longfellow feet! Sit back, relax, put on a smile, You’ve been zapped by a poet’s grandchild!