I think that I shall never meet
A poem lovely as a tweet.
A tweet with words and thoughts compressed

For me to press against my breast.
A tweet that stays with me all day,
Or 'til I put my phone away;
A tweet that I may marvel at,

With a photo of a dancing cat;
Or one that has mistakes within
That I may point out with a grin.
So shove your Larkin and your Keats,
Send to me your blessed tweets!