| Sonnet #1 | ||||||||||||||||||||||
| May I make a remark, mistress of minds? Despite your doubts, my current conviction Calls in cadence your biases and blinds - Hark! And hear the designs in this diction: There's a paucity of persons whom pride, Peddling perfect content and confidence, Cannot conquer. To bide one's time beside Beelzebub insults his intelligence. Yet I yearn to test myself in mischief, Daring the devil to break my blockades Perhaps presumptuousness pauses, in brief, To berate, before preventing parades. I have no validity for vict'ry: Great goals and grace are quite contradict'ry. |
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