National Poetry Month

[brigdh]

Sonnet 87 by William Shakespeare

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate,
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thy self thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me to whom thou gav'st it else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
   Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
   In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

Comments

[eglantine-br.livejournal.com]

Poor WS. He certainly writes a lot about getting dumped!

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Ha, it's very true!

[evelyn-b.livejournal.com]

I love how self-deprecating the feminine rhyme (knowing/growing, flatter/matter etc) makes this poem, especially in the final couplet. And the overabundance of gerunds. It's so perfectly hangdog. <3

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Yes! I'm always surprised by how often Shakespeare is twisting or mocking cliches. You think of him establishing the tropes, you know, not already subverting them.