Sonnet 129

[truepenny]

Pursuant to a conversation with brisingamen, I am moved to post my favorite of Shakespeare's sonnets, both because I love it and any excuse is a good excuse and because it offers a sharp corrective to the general perception that the Sonnets are "love poems."

129 is not about love.

129.
Th'expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
  All this the world well knows, yet none knows well
  To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Comments

[matociquala.livejournal.com]

I'm overly fond of "Was it the proud full sail of his great verse" because I can identify with the frustration in it so much.

And So now I have confessed that he is thine for craftsmanship, and double meanings, and the tautness of the whole damned thing.

[skylarker.livejournal.com]

He got that right.

[naomichana.livejournal.com]

My favorite, as I just posted, is "Why is my verse so barren of new pride" -- which just goes to show that I like poems about love, not love poems. I mean, my Top Five Poems In The English Language (please don't ask me to name them all; they rotate) invariably includes "A Lecture Upon The Shadow."