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All English Sonnets

Burdened by me cares like a pup
Go yelping cruelly booted, badly kicked,
And in my own self – pity, tears sup
To count my woes and feel completely licked.

So all my verses are in pain composed
And weary weary tearful , all my songs.
This life has gifted pain in droves and throngs
Which in my gift of verses are enclosed.

I, in the selfsame vein compose and write
And my energy continuously saps
And subtle distinction losing, I perhaps
Am ignorant of what is wrong or right.

Oh! I may not complain , take interest
May take my leave of life and go to rest.

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