just rhyming

1-100

The speed with which he walked into the shade
As when the triumph of the cloud portends,
He cried to others, "Come, upon this made
Of nature now this is crass wisdom laid."
Then footsteps followed by his sometime friends
Went up to see that stuff of daydream's ends.

2-100

He makes his mountains vague, the hills abstract.
He longed to make his meanings more concrete
But forcing his design to be discreet
Instead through thoughtless phrases--so they detract--
For these cliches, attention least attract,
Will make more vacuous the metered feet.

3-100

But why so focused on the rhyming scheme?
Is he afraid that he has nought to say
Or cannot write what others could portray?
What feeling else, himself that he should deem
Unworthy yet to carry forth his dream
To pen upon discourses of his day?