I think, therefore iamb

     The English language is weird.
     Then again, all languages are pretty weird. They weren't designed -- they evolved, like the platypus.

 
     Does a semi-aquatic, egg-laying mammal with webbed feet and a big bill make a lot of sense? Nope. But is it pretty cool? Yep. Languages are like that. This makes speaking and writing more interesting. (If you want to try a language that was designed, check out Esperanto -- but good luck finding any decent Esperanto love poems.) 
     Some languages (Latin, German) have a complex case system, and some do not (English). The Romance languages assign gender to all nouns -- "the table, she is blue" -- but others do not (English, thankfully). All words in Thai and Chinese languages are one syllable long, while Englsh is much more given to ostentatious sesquipedalians.* And so on.
     One quirk of English, and especially classic English verse: it's accented. Not every syllable is given the same stress. French is different. The French say "Can-a-da" with equal oomph given to every part of the word, while most Americans say "CAN-a-da." It can be amusing to hear a foreign speaker of English try to guess where the stresses in words should be: "We are go-ING to SAN FRAN-cis-CO zis sum-MER!"
     The majority of the poetry we are force-fed in schools is iambic. That means "one un-accented syllable is followed one accented syllable." Like so:

     It IS the VERy WITCHing TIME of NIGHT.
     The PURple DRAGon GOBbled UP the PIE.

     English poets have long enjoyed writing iambic verse because so much of what we say in English falls naturally into that rhythm. Why does it do that?

     NoBODy KNOWS, and NO one REALly CARES.

     Now that we've done a little homework, enjoy this prime example of iambic poesy read by Captain Jean-Luc Picard himself.

          * "Sesquipedalian" is a long word that means "long word." Impress your friends.