These rhyming lines I rack my brain to write,
That greet each other with similar end.
Now comes the first one: "bite," "cite," "mite," or "spite?"
Not one makes a sense! What can I amend?
Then it's the game for me to calculate;
My fingers I move to count "one to ten."
"There are only nine!" so I knock my pate;
An "o" or a "that" is added by my pen.
At last the fight to come is "rise and fall;"
'Tis a fierce beast I can never tame.
Thus I give in, not to bother at all;
Iambic pentameter, curse thy name!
So in the cage of form I bind my thought,
To clothe in sonnet's cloak my soul of nought.
--
Where words fail, music speaks.
--
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◆ From: 114.45.216.95
※ 編輯: amadeus1223 來自: 114.45.216.95 (09/22 09:31)
※ 編輯: amadeus1223 來自: 114.45.216.95 (09/23 00:25)