For The Master Sonneteer
While others mock adherence to thy form,
The challenge kindles creativity.
Though I struggle, forging order from storms,
Effort is oft’ rewarded with beauty.
I may crow, during less humble moments,
But will be first to note equality
Is symbolic in this accomplishment;
Rightly measured solely by quantity,
Not quality. One hundred fifty-four
Little songs which dripped off tongues of muses;
Many doomed to be shunned, a few adored;
Each speaking the truth with passion infused.
By Heaven, I pray this imitation,Weak as it is, will prove adoration.