Revised sonnet #113
Dictator Pittacus has nicest niece
Melitta loves the lyre and learns to play
Apollos suns are printed overlay
Upon her gown the favoured fashion piece
Her blonde hair bound is good as golden fleece
Its combs discouraging the strands astray
Her almost almond eyes ten shades of gray
Judge people nervously they never cease
That Pittacus in pity pardons foe
His Lesbos welcomes deadly dissidents
They moor unchallenged free of incidence
A civil wars the source of saddest woe
Oh Sappho answer she asks queasily
How can I pluck a lyre that easily?
Chorus queasily anxiously squeamishly
