![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
capri0mniI'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.
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.
