Painting of Henry Wriothesley
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
And there reigns love, and all love’s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things remov’d that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I lov’d I view in thee,
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.
This poem is one of the “fair youth” sonnets in which Shakespeare expresses that the young man is the culmination of all the loves which Shakespeare had before. But I also sense that, prior to meeting the fair youth, Shakespeare had given up on love, which he “supposed dead.” It is a normal emotion, that when we are suffering from a failed relationship, that we can no longer see the possibility of experiencing love again. But then that feeling is rekindled through our next lover, and it is that feeling that Shakespeare conveys in this sonnet.
This poem also reminds me of a recent conversation I had about failed relationships. Someone close to me had just broken up with her boyfriend, and was feeling sad about it. What I said was that failed relationships are learning experiences that lead you to a deeper understanding of yourself and will ultimately lead you to the right relationship. It is through practice in intimate relationships that we learn what it is that we truly need in a partner, as well as how to be a good partner ourselves. That is what Shakespeare is hinting at here in this sonnet. The relationships in his past that failed ultimately each taught him something about himself and the type of individual he desires. He then notices those qualities in the fair youth, whose “bosom is endeared with all hearts” of Shakespeare’s past loves.
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.
This poem is one of the “fair youth” sonnets. It essentially contrasts the emotional states associated with focusing on the past as opposed to the present.
The beginning of the sonnet is filled with the alliterative “s” sound, emulating the sound of a sigh, which is actually mentioned in the third line. The speaker is lost in thought about the past, obsessed with wasted time, failed endeavors, and lost loves. There is also a sense of mortality, as the person remembers the deaths of his friends and presumably contemplates his own. The focus on the past becomes so intense, that he is actually renewing and reliving his pain and loss. This is something I feel we have all experienced, at least I know for sure that I have. In my quiet times, it is easy for me to replay old tapes of the past and imagine what might have been, to mourn missed opportunities and lost friendships. This is exactly the feeling that Shakespeare is conveying in this poem.
But the last couplet provides a stark contrast to the prevailing mood of the sonnet. Here his focus shifts from the past to his current relationship with the fair youth, and you get the sense that the speaker is immediately able to let go of the past and appreciate what is truly important: the connection with people here and now.
We have a very limited time in our lives, and to waste that precious time obsessing about the past is a tragedy. To quote Ram Dass, we need to “Be Here Now.” We cannot change the past, and the future is uncertain. All we have is this moment. Take advantage of it and enjoy your connection with your friends and loved ones.
This is a special edition and actually contains three stories. The first one, Into the Fire, basically moves the primary story along. Sara has reclaimed the Witchblade and is establishing a new connection with the mystical artifact. She also takes Deputy Rooney into her confidence and sits in the woods with her, ready to share her history with the gauntlet.
The second story, Temple of Shadows, is also written by Ron Marz and illustrated by Laura Braga. It tells the tale of a Japanese woman, Shiori, who was the bearer of the Witchblade during the 17th century. She does battle with an oriental beast that looks like a cross between a man and a dragon. The artwork is very good and it hints at a recurring cycle between stories and events, a concept which I personally find intriguing.
The third tale, 4 for 5, is written by Ashley Robinson and is told from the perspective of Patrick Gleason, Sara’s former partner. I liked this vignette because it explores a male character’s journey to acceptance that he is not as powerful as his strong female partner. I think that some men have difficulty reconciling their masculine roles when in a partnership with a strong woman, whether that be a work relationship or an intimate one. Fortunately, I feel that traditional gender roles are being challenged and that we are moving more toward gender equality. I hope that one day we get there.
The issue concludes with a bonus: draft sketches from Ms. Braga. I found these very interesting, particularly since I am not artistically inclined when it comes to drawing. I enjoyed seeing how the characters and scenes are sketched and outlined. It was enlightening for me.
Overall, this was the best Witchblade issue that I have read in a while. It’s worth picking up if you have not yet done so. Cheers!
My daughter told me that she had to memorize this poem for school and that she really liked it, so I figured I would read it also. I too really liked this poem. It is very short, so I will include it here.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
On the surface, he appears to be describing global cataclysm, but I think this is a metaphor for something more personal. In the poem, Frost associates the destructive power of fire with desire, while he associates ice with hate. While these could certainly apply to global destruction, where desire and greed fuel a burning lust that drives people to rape the environment and where hatred of others creates the icy feeling of indifference, I also feel that they apply to personal relationships. The two things that can destroy a relationship faster than anything is the flame of lust for someone else, and the cold disregard for someone that you no longer feel passionate about. The world which one creates with another person can be quickly destroyed by both desire and hate.
For me, the opposite of desire is acceptance, and the opposite of hate is love. In my personal world, as well as in my interaction with the larger world around me, I strive to focus on love and acceptance instead of hate and desire. Doing so has made the world around me a better place.
This morning, as I drank a cup of rich, Italian roast coffee, I read the following poem by Richard Brautigan:
Horse child breakfast,
what are you doing to me?
with your long blonde legs?
with your long blonde face?
with your long blonde hair?
with your perfect blonde ass?
I swear I’ll never be the same again!
Horse child breakfast,
what you’re doing to me,
I want done forever.
This poem conjures a really sweet image, that of a young man feeling the first stirring of love for a young woman after an intimate evening. I picture the woman as a free-spirited hippie girl. She is someone I imagine running barefoot through long grass, wind blowing her long blonde hair. In the morning light which casts a golden hue over her, the young man sees her as the beautiful, free person who she is and is overwhelmed by the desire to stay with her for the rest of his life, to bask in that moment of beauty and contentment.
One of the magical things about poetry is the way a writer can express pure emotion in very few words. This is something Brautigan does perfectly with this poem. There is no fluff here, nothing superfluous, just a quick glimpse inside a person, the sharing of pure joy and wonder.