Rhyme in Reason seem to me
as if accorded with to sing in key
with Sense and Sensibility, a gift
for us attuned, a perennial bouquet.

A conspiracy of sorts, vaguely sealed,
a scale of acts in balance by their weights
timely set by tides of tempered haze
a net that bait for us our treasured yields.

Albeit my verse appeals appointed lords,
scenes, devoid of sense, might tend those inner courts;
wisely though, I grant my vice parole.

Reasons cast their case in rhymes that gleam
in me my maze might lure me into schemes;
a sense of able tense might vive my soul.