Welcome to day 26 of National Poetry Month! As we near the end of the month, I will be sharing with you some of my all-time favorite sonnets.
For tonight, I am reading Shakespeare’s sonnet 18, one of his most famous love sonnets. It captures the common theme of love transcending life here on earth.
Without further ado…..
Sonnet 18: “Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day?” by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Today we celebrate the life of William Shakespeare, who was rumored to be born on this day in 1564; it is also the date in which he died in 1616. This is sonnet 145, and as you can tell, we won’t be able to get to all of them in this short month of a mere 30 days as we celebrate the sonnet during National Poetry Month.
I hope you enjoy today’s reading. 🙂
Sonnet 145, by William Shakespeare
Those lips that love’s own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate,”
To me that languished for her sake.
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet.
“I hate” she altered with an end
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who, like a fiend,
From heaven to hell is flown away.
“I hate” from hate away she threw.
And saved my life, saying “not you.”
Welcome to Day 20 of our daily sonnets celebrating National Poetry Month. Tonight, I am reading Robert Burns’ “A Sonnet Upon Sonnets,” which he wrote in the Shakespearean sonnet form.
A Sonnet Upon Sonnets, by Robert Burns
Fourteen, a sonneteer thy praises sings;
What magic myst’ries in that number lie!
Your hen hath fourteen eggs beneath her wings
That fourteen chickens to the roost may fly.
Fourteen full pounds the jockey’s stone must be;
His age fourteen–a horse’s prime is past.
Fourteen long hours too oft the Bard must fast;
Fourteen bright bumpers–bliss he ne’er must see!
Before fourteen, a dozen yields the strife;
Before fourteen–e’en thirteen’s strength is vain.
Fourteen good years–a woman gives us life;
Fourteen good men–we lose that life again.
What lucubrations can be more upon it?
Fourteen good measur’d verses make a sonnet.
Good evening, and welcome to day 19 of celebrating National Poetry Month. Today is April 19, and in celebration of beginning Hamlet tomorrow with my seniors, I thought we’d read another Shakespeare sonnet.
Sonnet 30, “When to the Sessions of Sweet Silent Thought,” by William Shakespeare.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long-since cancell’d woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor’d, and sorrows end.