The sonnet is a trunk, and you must pack With care, to ship frail baggage far away: The octet is the trunk; sestet, the tray; Tight, but not overloaded, is the knack. First, at the bottom, heavy thoughts you stack, And in the chinks your adjectives you lay -- Your phrases, folded neatly as you may, Stowing a syllable in every crack. Then, in the tray, your daintier stuff is hid: The tender quatrain where your moral sings -- Be careful, though, lest as you close the lid You crush and crumble all these fragile things. Your couplet snaps the hasps and turns the key -- Ship to The Editor, marked C. O. D. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEWLY WEDDED by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 2 by ALFRED TENNYSON A PRAYER, LIVING AND DYING by AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH HERMAN; OR, THE BROKEN SPEAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM YELLOW CLOVER by KATHARINE LEE BATES THREE SONGS OF LOVE (CHINESE FASHION): 2. RIVER SONG by WILLIAM A. BEATTY |