THE SONNET

Alone it stands in Poesy's fair land,
    A temple by the muses set apart;
    A perfect structure of consummate art,
By artists builded and by genius planned.
Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand,
    Beyond the ken of the untutored heart,
    Like a fine carving in a common mart,
Only the favoured few will understand.
A chef-d'æuvre toiled over with great care,
    Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by.
A plainly set, but well-cut soltaire,
An ancient bit of pottery, too rare
    To please or hold aught save the special eye--
These only with the sonnet can compare.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.


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