Once we were asked (by the Washington Post, I think) to write
"instructions for something in the style of someone". Thus:
When in the chronicles of wasted time
I ponder how a sonnet should be writ,
The awful interlace of wreathèd rhyme,
The marching iambs strong in friendship knit;
When I behold the quatrains coming on
In serried ranks like Greeks assailing Troy,
Tercets bear banners up to Ilion,
A couplet deal the death-blow of annoy;
When I hear Petrarch’s soft and Southern sound
Moaning his love for decades twice alike,
See puissant Sidney’s images abound
And learnèd Spenser’s Amoretti strike;
Why cannot I of such a nectar sup?
Ah, had I been more wise, or given up!
Roger K.
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