. The Great Sonnet I set myself to write a sonnet. I labored hard and long upon it. Sweet verse some maid might shed a tear at, More ere's than one could shake a spear at. I spoke of luv, both hers and his's With lots of thee's and thou's and tis's. "My Luv art like a red, red rose From thynst red hair to thynst red toes. Thy kisses art as soft as snowflakes, As sweet as syrup poured on pancakes. Thou art so much like smelly flowers That just stand there and smell for hours. Thou chirpest like the birds in spring..." . . Bob H. Cook is an inmate at the Federal Correctional Institution in Seagoville, TX.