I wonder where the sonnet went to die
How has it been forgotten, where's its grave?
Who buried it when just beneath the sky
It shone with eloquence, it stood so brave
The vault of yesteryear can hold no trace
By how that 'little song' flourished the land
No faint reflection of the muse's face
Who gave the sonneteer the will to stand
I wish to resurrect the sonnet whole
By theme enough to prove it still has worth
Though I may doubt myself, I feel my soul
Will revolutionize it through re-birth
For every day we poets take in stride
Each thought, the sonnet burns with life inside
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