Rather Like This One

I do the great travail invisible:
The rising after rhyme and worthwhile metre,
The most exact word — however risible,
It’s what I offer to my own verse-eater.
Did Shakespeare also clamber after rhymes?
Of course he did — it’s just that his blank verse
Is mostly what’s recalled in these late times:
“To be or” — both a blessing and a curse.
But he wrote sonnets, too, much like this one,
And be it This man’s scope or that man’s art,
Or, There is no new thing under the sun,
Or, Never say that I was false of heart,
The right words we chase after may appear,
Whispering themselves into my ready ear.