Sonnet 1 Where Consensus Abounds Poem by Francisco Luis Arroyave Tabares

In days this is sparce no verses I could write
Nor find words a little close to my thought
And not an art or other way so right
Could display well what my heart liked or fought.

Often times with condemning rhymes I stone
Other minds which think their manners are best
But I swear that hate I want from me all gone
Because hate yeasts and may corrupt the rest.

Account for me the evils that you find
And with insight eyes bear my lights and dark
Call my pen the tool of a rustic hind 11
And please read my tears of their human mark.

This way loftier hues may rise in clouds
To gather strength where consensus abounds.
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11-. Hind = a skilled farm worker or servant.