Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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 favoured few will understand.
A chef-d’Å“vre 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.

1. Earnestness
2. Sonnets of Sorrow. 18. The wise ones tell me that my heart's wild clamour
3. The Crimes of Peace
4. Our Lives
5. The Empty Bowl

Richard Gilder The Sonnet ("WHAT is a sonnet? 'T is the pearly shell")

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