planetae. wanderer.

I have wandered from the purpose of this blog. whoopsadaisy!


Let's talk sonnets.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
     And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
     As any she belied with false compare.

-Shakespeare

Now, I do love Shakespeare sonnets. I love Shakespeare. This particular one strikes me as very Shakespeare-esque.
Take for instance, the way the poem starts out. Sarcastic. Cynical. Sometimes misogynistic. Why is he insulting his lady? She has stinky breath? And you don't like her voice? What words of love are you getting at here?

He gives the humor a tang of sarcasm and biting wit. Oh, that is good. A+, William. So much attitude, so few words.

Next, he makes this interesting admission: that he is aware his love is not a goddess. Isn't that odd. Who says love is blind? 

Finally, "...I think my love as rare/ As any she belied with false compare." Oh man! What a way to sum it up!
"I know her faults! And to me...she is perfect." He sums up the poem and immediately dispels all contempt in two simple lines.

Maybe I should work on memorizing that one too.

Here's another, as a bonus. Well, it's not a sonnet, just a lovely poem.

SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes

     -Lord Byron