The Sonnet on the Mount

This is the tune I am working into this sonnet:
How blessed are the quatrains when they rise
How blessed are the couplets as they fall
More blessed are the poets who are wise
Who see allusive words upon their walls
Who light their metaphoric candles, bright
Much more than just a simile; they are
Fulfillment of the law. They do what’s right
They celebrate the small, sonnettic star
Don’t relegate the iambs to the dust
They need the cleansing water of your tears
Before you walk the second mile, you must
Divest yourself of all un-godly fears
To him that knocketh, doors are opened wide
Compose the songs of muses there, inside.

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