| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| II. The Children of the Night |
| 36. Sonnet |
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| THE MASTER and the slave go hand in hand, | |
| Though touch be lost. The poet is a slave, | |
| And there be kings do sorrowfully crave | |
| The joyance that a scullion may command. | |
| But, ah, the sonnet-slave must understand | 5 |
| The mission of his bondage, or the grave | |
| May clasp his bones, or ever he shall save | |
| The perfect word that is the poet’s wand. | |
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| The sonnet is a crown, whereof the rhymes | |
| Are for Thought’s purest gold the jewel-stones; | 10 |
| But shapes and echoes that are never done | |
| Will haunt the workshop, as regret sometimes | |
| Will bring with human yearning to sad thrones | |
| The crash of battles that are never won. | |
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