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Poetry, after all, or most poetry, is presumably meant to be heard, not read. - (Mercenaries of Gor, Chapter 19, Sentence #371)

The so-called Philebus seemed as though he might desire to withdraw from our vicinity now and then, even giving up his place in line, particularly when Hurtha would come to an often-repeated, stirring refrain, but my hand on his collar kept him in his place. I will not attempt to give Hurtha's poem in its entirety, but I think I may have suggested something of its drift already. I might also mention that it is possible that it might lose something in the reading of it. Poetry, after all, or most poetry, is presumably meant to be heard, not read. It is intended for the ear, not the eye. And certainly the mere reading of it could scarcely convey the impact of hearing it proclaimed in the living voice, and particularly in a voice such as Hurtha's. The line had been moving along rapidly enough, incongruous though this might have seemed, given the thesis of Hurtha's poem. - (Mercenaries of Gor)