Sunday, June 9, 2013


 A verse like this is fashioned to enchant,
 For while it lasts it casts a little spell;
 Let other kinds of writing rage or rant,
 Intending to explain, complain or tell.
 A sonnet though, above all, means to sing,
 And while this one is too expository,
 The best of them can make the welkin ring
 Displaying artistry in all its glory.
 The sonnet’s verse turns easily on the tongue
 Not marching on but dancing gracefully,
 Not shouted or declaimed but sweetly sung,
 Inducing at the best an ecstasy.
      In only fourteen lines a little play’s
      Performed that wakes us from our mundane daze.