I'll sing in praise of sonnets, and the way
They pay allegiance to a set of rules,
Old rules free-versing poets won't obey,
As if poetic standards were for fools.
Rules scarcely matter; with a dearth of form,
Nothing gets in the way of their designs,
No well-known frame dare represent a norm,
To give a pleasant rhythm to their lines.
Adherence to a tried poetic style,
Is dull for poets lost in the embrace
Of novelty, and strict rules' denial;
To me, their best endeavors just lack grace.
If free verse slakes your thirst, please, don't refuse it;
The sonnet works for me, that's why I choose it.