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All English Sonnets


I look for singers who are doubly blessed
With songs divine and masks man ship divine,
Their bullets find their masks and unmissed,
Their ditties flow. No superfluous line.

Encumbers verses sweet, where are they?
I search for them, the champions of true thought,
And continue my travels, I may-
Unearth them during travels, Ah! Unsought.

In some sequestered cul-de-sac or street,
May well be sitting some untutored youth.
Uncultured and uncoached and uncouth
with whom then I may all of a sudden meet.

May well he prove to be the master Bard,
Who sings irrespective of reward for love of song not of.

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