This was not writ to win of love or like

But here in words sweet passion to implore,

That you might see me in a poet’s light

As I in ranting rhyme, my soul out pour;

So here in wanting lines these thoughts I spill,

Full lacking both in ardor and in form

As if some fool had found a tattered quill

To scratch out runes that might a dullard bore.

Where eyes lack wonder, what to seek in praise

That might ignite some semblance of desire,

And through such musings, spark some stirring phrase

To unmask coyness and dear heart inspire?

I am aware this sonnet seems a sham,

Yet smile in ink——I write therefore I am.