The sonnet is a form of poetry

ringing in English since the Renaissance

courtiers renewed our verse with this jouissance

of rhyme and macaronic melody:

an octave (these eight lines) is followed by

a shift in tone, or theme, in a sestet,

never but lining hope with fond regret,

never but linking words in rhymery.

So to a form, when electric words grow quick

in newfound power as code, compiled and freed

to answer with dispatch any answerable need,

they drive a counting machine to draw in strict

straight lines the formal frames half-hidden there,

inside sings out: sunshine in stained-glass prayer.