Favorites of Shakespeare sonnets, then and now:

[capri0mni]

I'm in the middle of writing a poem cycle in iambic pentameter; each poem is based on the Italian (or "Shakespearean") Sonnet, but is not -- I'm adding a six-line "prologue" to each, to set the scene, so the poems are all 20 lines in total.

But, I have been going back to read Shakespeare's pieces, to purge any lingering earworms, and get my inner metronome in working order. ...And that got me thinking about my changing taste, in having a "favorite."

During my late adolescence (late teens -- early twenties), my favorite was clearly Sonnet 29: that perfect anthem of Clinical Depression:

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings..

Recently, however, I've rediscovered sonnet #44. Now, that I feel myself surrounded by a circle of friends (love you guys -- you know that, right?), the emotional isolation of that previous favorite rings just a bit less true. However, the fact that I can't actually share tea and cake and hugs still stings to the bone, and I find myself wanting to memorize this sonnet next:

Sonnet 44

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

--

I think "But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought" is my new favorite line: that wonderful mix of melancholy and wry humor that I've loved Ol' Will for, all these years.

Comments

[spiralsheep]

Psst: Italian sonnets are "Petrarchan". English sonnets are "Shakespearian".

I've never had a favourite Shakespeare sonnet. ::ponders::

Although imo the bestest sonnet in English is Elizaverg Barrett Browning's Sonnet from the Portugese: How Shall I Love Thee.

[spiralsheep]

Obligatory sacrifice to the Oh Ghod of Typoes as penance for correcting yours: How DO I Love Thee. Heh.

[capri0mni]

You're right. Not Italian...

But they weren't called "Shakespearean" at the time he was writing them. Wasn't he taking up a form of poetry that had gained (relatively) recent and widespread popularity, so he thought he'd give it a go, and found he really like them? What name would he have given the form? I know there is one... but I think it snuck out my left ear some time ago, and is probably hiding in one of my closets.

[smw]

Shakespeare is not at all the person I'd look to for an expression of the strange presence-absence of my circle of friends, yet that captures it so well.

Now, my fondness for the phrase "bootless cries" is eternal. I regret that I can't use it without sounding silly to other people. Somehow the rhythm of it works for me.

[capri0mni]

my fondness for the phrase "bootless cries" is eternal. I regret that I can't use it without sounding silly to other people.

Indeed. The use of the word "boot" to mean anything other than heavy footwear has fallen out of fashion. But I remember a time not so long ago when the use of this selfsame word to mean: "of benefit," "make more useful," or "to help," could be heard every Saturday morning in television advertising aimed at kids, and their mothers (in charge of the purse strings) listening from the kitchen:

Typical Voice Over from the 1970s:

Not only is "Kellogg's Corn Pops" sweetly delicious, but it's fortified with fifteen vitamins and minerals, to boot!

...I'm still working my way around to that post on my relationship with language: signed versus spoken, which you expressed interest in. And when I do (now that you've got me thinking about this particular example), I will probably use "bootless cries" in one of my illustrative points.

Also, I do admit the line: "With what I most enjoy contented least" is the best, and most concise, expression of the frustration that comes from swimming your way through a bout of depression.

[raze]

I am utterly delighted by Sonnet 44 - thank you for sharing! It truly does crystalize how I've felt so many times when there is distance between myself and those I care about in times of need. In fact, considering that I'm hundreds to thousands of miles away from literally everyone I know and love, it's pretty well how I feel all of the time, heh.

[capri0mni]

In fact, considering that I'm hundreds to thousands of miles away from literally everyone I know and love, it's pretty well how I feel all of the time

Just so. Sometimes, I imagine how different authors from centuries past would deal, psychologically, if they were brought to modern times. William Langland (author of Piers Plowman, 14th C.) would have a nervous breakdown. Chaucer, however, would probably be okay. After reading #44, I'm sure William S. would be up all night, emo-posting on the Internet... (like that XKCD guy: "It's not late! It's barely 3 am!")