Tag Archives: sonnet

“Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight” by William Shakespeare

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarr’d the benefit of rest?
When day’s oppression is not eas’d by night,
But day by night, and night by day, oppress’d?
And each, though enemies to either’s reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me;
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion’d night
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild’st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief’s strength seem stronger.

This is a poem about how we deal with the pain of separation from the person we love.

The sonnet’s protagonist is apart from the one he loves, and as a result, suffers from restlessness both day and night. In an attempt to deal with the pain and restlessness, the speaker tries to acknowledge the good things about life around him, pointing out the brightness of the day and the rich darkness of the night. But ultimately, the clouds obscure the azure heavens and the stars lose their sparkle, and the man is left with the weight of loneliness and grief, feelings he must suffer through in isolation.

I find this a sad yet comforting poem. Most likely, we have all experienced the feelings expressed here. In these moments, we feel such a sense of isolation and solitary suffering that it is hard to imagine anyone else having suffered through the same and emerged happy. This poem reminds us that we are not unique in these feelings, that it is a part of the human experience. We must remember that all things pass.

Thanks for stopping by, and have a wonderful day.

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“Sonnet to Sleep” by John Keats

Portrait of John Keats by Joseph Severn

O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the Amen ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like the mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

This poem is about the longing to escape physical and emotional suffering. Keats expresses deep anguish which appears to be a combination of bodily pain accompanied by thoughts and memories which torment him. As he lies awake in bed, he longs for the forgetfulness of sleep, but sleep eludes him.

Sleep is a common metaphor for death, and Keats uses certain words associated with death to convey the sense that he is weary of living and longs to pass from mortal existence. The words “embalmer” in the opening line and “casket” in the closing line actually serve as a way of entombing the entire poem. Also, the fact that the poem is set at midnight implies that he is at a symbolic threshold, ready to move on to the next plane of existence.

There is one last thing I feel is worth noting. In lines 7 and 8, there is a reference to the use of poppy, which in Keats’ time would be opium. It appears that Keats has turned to narcotics as a way to ease his physical and spiritual pain. But in spite of his self-anesthetizing, he is still unable to numb the darkness, “burrowing like the mole” into the deepest regions of his psyche.

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“Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed” by William Shakespeare

mansleeping

Painting by Carolus Duran

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find.

For me, this is a poem about one’s obsession for another person and how that can affect someone. We are given a glimpse into the mind of a person painfully in love, who spends his days working in order to distract himself from the longing that is within. But while the toiling is a good distraction, the desire is still below the surface, ever present in the deeper recesses of the mind.

But it is in the evening, when a person goes to bed and tries to sleep, that obsessions most often take the strongest possession. As we stare at the insides of our eyelids, or gaze upon the canvas of a darkened ceiling, thoughts and images are unleashed and we spiral down the rabbit hole. It’s a feeling I know too well. Many a night I have spent lying in bed, thinking about a person, or replaying a scenario over and over in my head. When we are stripped of external distractions, the mind is free to wander where it will.

In line 6 of the sonnet, Shakespeare uses the word “intend” which in the context means direct, specifically that his thoughts are being directed towards the person he loves and is not with physically. I find this a really interesting word choice, because it creates a sense of tension. On one hand, the thoughts appear to be something the speaker is trying desperately to suppress, and yet, there is also a willful intention on his part to summon and direct his thoughts toward his significant other, to conjure the image in his mind. He doesn’t want to think about his love, but he also does not want to forget. It is a feeling that anyone who is missing another person can relate to.

Thanks for stopping by, and have a beautiful and inspiring day.

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“Sonnet 26: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage” by William Shakespeare

Shakespeare

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written ambassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit:
Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine
May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,
But that I hope some good conceit of thine
In thy soul’s thought, all naked, will bestow it;
Till whatsoever star that guides my moving,
Points on me graciously with fair aspect,
And puts apparel on my tatter’d loving,
To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:
Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;
Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.

When I first read this poem, knowing it is one of the “fair youth” sonnets, I assumed that the lord to whom it is composed was the fair youth. I still adhere to that interpretation, but it is worth pointing out other interpretations which I cannot claim credit for.

According to what I read online, some scholars believe the lord referenced in the beginning of the poem is Cupid. I can see that, Cupid being the god of love and is often depicted naked. My only hesitation in accepting this is the lack of arrows as images and metaphors in this poem. I feel that if Cupid was the lord, then there would have been more evidence in the verse. Shakespeare was certainly a skilled-enough poet that he could have woven that imagery in. Also, arrows are phallic symbols, so it would have added to the sexuality of the poem, which leads me to the next item I want to discuss.

In the synopsis that I read online, the scholar mentioned that there was a sexual pun at the end. I thought, really? Did I miss something? And it seems I did. As I went back and read more closely, I caught it in the final couplet.

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;
Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.

“Show my head” could definitely be interpreted as showing his penis, which Shakespeare says he will abstain from doing until he boasts his love. I have to say, I appreciate the bawdy pun. It proves that Shakespeare was not writing for high-brow intellectuals, but that he was writing for the common people of his time, who would have certainly appreciated the sexual pun.

Thanks for stopping by, and have a terrific day.

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Thoughts on “Don Quixote” – Part 5: A Sonnet on Sancho Panza

sanchopanzastatue

The worthy Sancho Panza here you see;
A great soul once was in that body small,
Nor was there squire upon this earthly ball
So plain and simple, or of guile so free.
Within an ace of being Count was he,
And would have been but for the spite and gall
Of this vile age, mean and illiberal,
That cannot even let a donkey be.
For mounted on an ass (excuse the word),
By Rocinante’s side this gentle squire
Was wont his wandering master to attend.
Delusive hopes that lure the common herd
With promise of ease, the heart’s desire,
In shadows, dreams, and smoke ye always end.

(p. 538)

I find this sonnet, which appears near the end of Volume 1 of the text, both sad and sweet. On one hand, there is something so admirable about Sancho. He is a faithful and steadfast friend, who is always seeking to do the right thing. But alas, Sancho, for all his kindness, has one human flaw—the desire for comfort and ease.

As is often the case, seeking quick and easy comfort can lead you down the road that culminates in broken dreams, ashes, and sadness. The idea of comfort, for too many people, is nothing but the smoke of a pipe dream. And this is the case with Sancho. And sadly, as I look around me, I see so many people who share Sancho’s flaw. They think that following this leader or that idea will bring quick happiness and contentment. “If this person is elected, then all my problems will vanish and I will enjoy the American Dream.” But that is all it is; a dream.

There is a lot we can learn from Sancho Panza. It is important to be truthful, to be a good friend, to be trustworthy, and to follow our dreams; but we should also be careful not to pursue shadows or let our dreams lead us down roads that take us nowhere. There needs to be a balance between dreams and reality, between hope and striving. If we are not willing to do the hard work, then our dreams will never become realities.

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“Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars” by William Shakespeare

Shakespeare

Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foil’d,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.

I love this sonnet, and it is totally relevant to our modern society. The poem has such a profound message we know is true, yet somehow we forget.

Everyone knows that fame, fortune, and glory do not bring a person happiness. These are trappings of life which are fleeting, momentary, and often distract us from what is important in life—love and interpersonal connections with others. We all know on some level that this is true, and yet, we so often lose ourselves in the quest for things outside ourselves to fill the void we feel within. But the money is never enough; the fame or superficial approval never quite does it. It is only when we connect with another person on a deep level that we feel the love that fills us with true happiness and contentment.

This poem is a reminder to me, in these unsettled times, to focus on what is most important in my life: my family, my friends, my music, my writing, my spiritual life. Everything else is, well, just stuff.

Thanks for stopping by, and may you have a wonderful day with people you love.

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“Gypsies on the Road” by Charles Baudelaire

Painting by Sir Alfred Munnings

Painting by Sir Alfred Munnings

The dark-eyed ancient tribe that never rests
Took up the age-old journey yesterday,
The young on the women’s backs, and—should they cry—
Treasure awaits them at the hanging breasts.

On foot, the men, whose shouldered weapons gleam,
Trudge by the waggons where their families lie,
Their gaze is heavy as the scan the sky
With nameless shadows of a distant dream.

The cricket, watching from its sandy bower,
Greets their approach with loudest eloquence;
Cybele makes earth greener for their sake;

The rock becomes a spring, the deserts flower
Before these wanderers, as they march to take
The constant empire of the unknown hence.

(Translation by Naomi Lewis)

I really enjoyed this poem and find it to be very relevant to events currently unfolding within our world. Basically, Baudelaire is establishing a correlation between the gypsies of his time and the archetype of the Wandering Jew, roaming the desert in search of the Promised Land. But I cannot help but see the plights of Syrian refugees or Mexican immigrants reflected in this sonnet. These people pack up their families and what few possessions they can carry, and set out in search of a better life. I try to imagine the desperation that brings people to this point, and it is difficult for me to grasp. Thankfully, I have not had to experience that level of despair in my life.

I really don’t have anything else to say about this poem. It seems pretty clear and unambiguous to me, but if you see something that I missed, feel free to comment in the section below.

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