The sonnet's Fearful Symmetry is found
Within both forests of the night and day
Where similes and metaphors abound
Where fourteen rows of iambs kneel and pray
The prayers of Fearful Symmetry compose
Pentameter that keeps the form in check
And thus the prayers are forested as those
Who twist their hempen cords around their neck
Alas, a volta turns to find a Lamb
Sonnettics Tygers turn to face the stars
A cry is raised: "I am, my God! Iamb!"
The spears are tears that find they're yours; they're ours
Then back to Fearful Symmetry we're brought
To learn the things the trashy rhymes have taught.
This entry was posted on Saturday, February 11th, 2023 at 12:17 pm and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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