Monthly Flower

A sort of satire of Sonnet 18, the first line of the poem is that of Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
No I shant, thou art a winter's night!
Abhorrent I am in display
No monthly flower I am despite
The kindly nature of my ways
My visage causes you to fright
Thou bringest in me much dismay
Force me to wallow in my plight
Afford me then the leave to say,
"Be thou gone then from my sight!"
I shall not grant thee leave to stay
Be then gone, by moon's dim light!
I shouldn't think of thee today
I shall not try, with all my might