The iambs in pentameter will dance across the page,
But in fourteeners limp along, with extra two feet left.
Once in another lifetime, writing sonnets was the rage,
The iambs in pentameter would dance across the page.

It seems the sonnet-writer now will only show his age
As more and more write free-verse, leaving formal poems bereft.
The iambs in pentameter will dance across the page,
But in fourteeners limp along, with extra two feet left.