The Sonnet
Alone it stands in Poesy’s fair land,
A temple by the muses set apart;
A perfect structure of consummate art,
By artists builded and by genius planned.
Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand,
Beyond the ken of the untutored heart,
Like a fine carving in a common mart,
Only the favored few will understand.
A chef-d’oeuvre toiled over with great care,
Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by,
A plainly set, but well-cut solitaire,
An ancient bit of pottery, too rare
To please or hold aught save the special eye,
These only with the sonnet can compare.
Copyright Credit: Ella Wheeler Wilcox, “The Sonnet” from Poems of Cheer. (London: Gay and Hancock, Ltd., 1908). Public domain.
Source: Poems of Cheer (Gay and Hancock, 1908)