Give me, O Muse, my daily sonnet,
And place your brightest blessings on it
That it may sing in praise of grace,
Rising above things bad and base,
For poetry should celebrate
What things in life are good and great.
This poem itself is no such song
To join such sonnets in their throng
But simply a meek invocation
Of what may rise to true elation.
Consider this an exercise,
A modest little enterprise,
To limber up my vocal cords
Not meriting praise or rewards.