But my mind was filled with other poets' thoughts.
Steal from them?- I don't even know 'em,
So I'll subject you to my mental rot.
I wanted so to write you a great sonnet
With clever words reminiscent of Oscar Wilde
To say that you're the only bee in my bonnet,
Unfortunately, my own words are much too mild.
I'd hoped to write a jewel of sentiment
In stunning verse like Lord Byron's inventions;
I hate to say it: you must be content
To hear me tell about my good intentions..
...But then - I'm glad my words aren't flattering.
I think if they were, you'd run like anything!