Question

To the clouds the winter of our dreadful marches to merry meeting nymph;
I, that love's majesty
To the souls of mounting nymph;
I, that am not shaped front;
And now, instead of this wrinkled front;
And all the deep bosom of our dreadful adversaries,

I need help I'm writing a poem like I'm shake-spear

Answer 1

Answer:

Once there was an elephant,

Who tried to use the telephant—

No! No! I mean an elephone

Who tried to use the telephone—

(Dear me! I am not certain quite

That even now I’ve got it right.)

Howe’er it was, he got his trunk

Entangled in the telephunk;

The more he tried to get it free,

The louder buzzed the telephee—

(I fear I’d better drop the song

Of elephop and telephong!)

Explanation: