WHAT THE SONNET IS
Proud philosophy proposed to Poetry pure,
Coaxing, cajoling her to serve him as his Queen.
Reluctant she succumbed: hair dragged to his lair,
Lured and bedded behind his mental screen.
Uneasy waged their wedlock, heavily hard to bear
Her fairy fancies with his rigid thought machine.
Divorce seemed certain, ‘til from who knows where?
Fourteen lines of metre, meandered on the scene.
Philosophic sonnets solved their crisis soon,
To knit ideas with verses in a subtle form.
He shone as Sun, she swanned as silver Moon
Reflecting wisdom in stanzas, heartfelt, warm.
They seized the avid reader like a thunder storm,
Philosophic sonnets now were born, the cultured norm.
Alan Jacobs
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