THE LYRIC MUSE
I am by natural bent a sonneteer
Who trips along my way iambically
In five-beat lines I subtly engineer
To seem as casual as their sense is clear.
That art which hides its artifice is best,
Seeming spontaneous and unrehearsed
As if each line the Lyric Muse had blessed,
While envious rival scribblers feel they’re cursed.
What they don’t know is that facility
And fluency develop over time,
And that by sitting daily, faithfully
To muse and play with meter and with rhyme
At last a capability will come
That feels like inspiration as you strum.