I (sonnets)

Inside my mind a bird forced songful tear
To whistle music that one cannot hide
A trumpet treb' of ears deceit so clear
A scream of magic babes and morning hate
Now mothers face a radiant song of tides
Were lullaby's to calm my oldhead's pain
And help the potter's brow to gaze his pride
While song is reaped of all it's youthful shame
Watery meals that cannot please the tongue
Now shout to interrupt the evening hymn
And fear not the dark, dark pallor of our son
I'll quate the math of sound and I it's sum
From you dear lyric I cannot escape
The latter work of melodies and fate