[R. S. Gwynn]

Curious at GS's mention of a classical (dactylic) hexameter, I just counted the syllables in the lines. She's right about the lurching, off-balance effect of the meter, but I don't find any great profusion of triple feet.

Processions that lack high stilts have nothing that catches the eye. 15
What if my great-granddad had a pair that were twenty foot high, 15
And mine were but fifteen foot, no modern Stalks upon higher, 14
Some rogue of the world stole them to patch up a fence or a fire. 15

Because piebald ponies, led bears, caged lions, make but poor shows, 15
Because children demand Daddy-long-legs upon his timber toes, 16
Because women in the upper storeys demand a face at the pane, 17
That patching old heels they may shriek, I take to chisel and plane. 15

Malachi Stilt-Jack am I, whatever I learned has run wild, 15
From collar to collar, from stilt to stilt, from father to child. 15

All metaphor, Malachi, stilts and all. A barnacle goose 15
Far up in the stretches of night; night splits and the dawn breaks loose; 15
I, through the terrible novelty of light, stalk on, stalk on; 15
Those great sea-horses bare their teeth and laugh at the dawn. 13

It's 14 lines to be sure, but in couplets. I don't find a lot of common ground with this and the sonnet tradition. Actually I hear more of a "sprung" fourteener in these lines; it could easily be written in (admittedly loose) ballad stanzas.

Processions that lack high stilts
have nothing that catches the eye.
What if my great-granddad had a pair
that were twenty foot high,

And mine were but fifteen foot, no modern
Stalks upon higher,
Some rogue of the world stole them
to patch up a fence or a fire.

Because piebald ponies, led bears,
caged lions, make but poor shows,
Because children demand Daddy-long-legs
upon his timber toes,

Because women in the upper storeys
demand a face at the pane,
That patching old heels they may shriek,
I take to chisel and plane.

Malachi Stilt-Jack am I,
whatever I learned has run wild,
From collar to collar, from stilt to stilt,
from father to child.

All metaphor, Malachi, stilts and all.
A barnacle goose
Far up in the stretches of night; night splits
and the dawn breaks loose;

I, through the terrible novelty
of light, stalk on, stalk on;
Those great sea-horses bare their teeth
and laugh at the dawn.

One curious thing about the poem in long lines is the capitalized "Stalks" in the middle of l. 3.