My sonnet

I had to write a sonnet for English. Here it is.
When certain men come to a loss for words,
They turn to music as a medium
To show all other men with lovely chords
Magnificent artists they have become.

Their pens are mightier than swords and lead
Great regiments of skillful soldiers
To capture hearts and make men’s souls to bleed
With melodies that grow not moldier.

The music they write will not fade away
Like buildings burn’d or destroyed by time
But thrive in our cultures down to this day
Rob’d in the splendour giv’n to music prime.

But this art still decays as poets take o’er
With men believing artists will but bore.


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