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Sonnetitis....Shakespearean Sonnet "Oh doctor, do come quickly I request, a virus has attacked Tir na nOg's lot; a silkworm carried sonnetitis pest- 'most every member's meter met the rot. We cannot think but iambic, it's a curse! and even breath and heart march with those feet: dee DUM dee DUM dee DUM - it's getting worse, is there a medicine, a healing treat?" "Dear Poets", says the doctor, "don't despair, be patient, let it run its destined course; these iambs that you suffer from, are fair, and they will tickle your poetic source". Then forth will flow a multitude of words about a chervine, lacy veils and birds. |
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