To the clouds the winter of our dreadful marches to merry meeting nymph;
I, that love's majesty
To the souls of mounting nymph;
I, that am not shaped front;
And now, instead of this wrinkled front;
And all the deep bosom of our dreadful adversaries,

I need help I'm writing a poem like I'm shake-spear

1 Answer

  • Answer:

    Once there was an elephant,

    Who tried to use the telephant—

    No! No! I mean an elephone

    Who tried to use the telephone—

    (Dear me! I am not certain quite

    That even now I’ve got it right.)

    Howe’er it was, he got his trunk

    Entangled in the telephunk;

    The more he tried to get it free,

    The louder buzzed the telephee—

    (I fear I’d better drop the song

    Of elephop and telephong!)