The sonnet is a form of poetry ringing in English since the Renaissance courtiers renewed our verse with this jouissance of rhyme and macaronic melody: an octave (these eight lines) is followed by a shift in tone, or theme, in a sestet, never but lining hope with fond regret, never but linking words in rhymery. So to a form, when electric words grow quick in newfound power as code, compiled and freed to answer with dispatch any answerable need, they drive a counting machine to draw in strict straight lines the formal frames half-hidden there, inside sings out: sunshine in stained-glass prayer.