PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET:103

To every glory not all able spirit can afford,Where victors in silence belch the more for silence boast of temperate beyond this obscurity, When your countenance lack'd matter that enfeebled myth,What farewell art thou too obsessed and disposessed of entitlement,The charter of adophobia gives thee a banished lent,an unrelenting servitude and with a brassy claws indeterminate,So thy silvermoon upon being a state misconstrued gavest its growth,On verdict transplanted on lugubrious earth,at pebbled shores,not fairly acquinted with double vantage,let alone a vantage and a vantage press,such is enticement and a briddle to which briddle,i briddle for long,Saith that thou didst forsake these golden verses in years to comn as to abhor them,And i will speak foul of thy vain trips and erosion of gallantry,over the beloved with no nomenclature whatsoever,And every chant hath its downwind extant humour,whereon it findeth an inquisition,above the gregarious summation for an evidence,But this metrics hardly easy findeth.