Tuesday, February 12, 2013


       You write a sonnet when you want to sing,
       But not exactly burst into a song,
       The kind that makes the welkin ring
       Or an anthem aimed to over-awe a throng;

       A sonnet is a milder melody,
       That, if of love, is suitable to croon
       And move your darling dear to ecstasy,
       Enamored by your poetry’s sweet tune.

       And yet your song may take another way
       Than courting and amour—perhaps a quest
       That’s philosophical towards Wisdom’s Way,
       Or a religious search for what is blessed.

            Whatever motive moves a sonneteer,
            Your first command is to enchant the ear.