Good evening, all:
Tonight, I am reading a sonnet by the English poet Lady Mary Wroth of the Renaissance era. She was born in 1587 and died in 1653. This particular sonnet, “Forbear Dark Night, My Joys Now Bud Again,” follows the Petrarchan form.
“Forbear dark night, my joys now bud again”
Forbear dark night, my joys now bud again,
Lately grown dead, while cold aspects did chill
The root at heart, and my chief hope quite kill,
And thunders struck me in my pleasures’ wane
Then I alas with bitter sobs, and pain,
Privately groan’d, my Fortunes present ill;
All light of comfort dimm’d, woes in prides fill,
With strange increase of grief, I griev’d in vain.
And most, when as a memory too good
Molested me, which still as witness stood,
Of those best days, in former time I knew:
Late gone as wonders past, like the great Snow,
Melted and wasted, with what, change must know:
Now back the life comes where as once it grew.