Thou hath not the hand of a Sonneteer
As this composition shall verily tell
Thou proffers a rhyme so unfit to sell
Of determination thy mind doth steer
Correct in meter all lines must be
The object is to complete this hard task  
Then in a well lit passage thy can bask
Thy brain laboring to bring glory to thee
The end of the process is in full sight
Each word placed down with much exertion
Thou trudges forward to climb the high hill
Where there is an ebullient glowing light
All self doubt hath gone out on excursion
Thy best efforts done with an inept quill