The Sonnet is a world, where feelings caught

In webs of phantasy, combine and fuse

Their kindred elements 'neath mystic dews

Shed from the ether round man's dwelling wrought;

Distilling heart's content, star-fragrance fraught

With influences from the breathing fires

Of heaven in everlasting endless gyres

Ending and encircling orbs of thought.

Our Sonnet's world hath two fix'd hemispheres:

This, where the sun with fierce strength masculine

Pours his keen rays and bids the noonday shine;

That, where the moon and the stars, concordant powers,