The Shakespearean Sonnet
This kind of poetry is not for the amateur. A sonnet is a poem that has to comply with a certain system of rhyme and rhythm. The writer gets to show off their creativity within these strict rules, and it becomes like a sport for poets who want to excel and show off their craft. The Shakespearean sonnet has fourteen lines, divided into four stanzas with the rhyme scheme abab, cdcd, efef, gg, in a 4+4+4+2 structure. Shakespeare usually wrote his sonnets in iambic pentameter, which is close to the rhythm of everyday speech.
The sonnet may present the poet’s view on certain aspects of life, the world, himself – but most often a sonnet is about love. Many of Shakespeare’s sonnets look like passionate love letters to a lady he is in love with, while others are a sort of dialogue with a male friend. Shakespeare provides physical descriptions of the two, and they are therefore often referred to as ‘The Dark lady’ and ‘The Fair Youth’. Scholars have long tried to establish their identities, but have so far not succeeded.
Shakespeare wrote 154 sonnets in total, which were collected and published in 1609. It is believed that they were never intended for a wide audience, and they were probably published without Shakespeare’s approval. Some of them may seem like poetic finger exercises and are a bit monotone in their rigorous style. But more than anything, Shakespeare’s sonnets clearly demonstrate his poetic skills and his immaculate way with words.
Sonnet 18 is perhaps the most famous of the 154 sonnets. This sonnet is considered by many to be one of the most beautifully written verses in English literature, and it has long been praised because Shakespeare manages to capture the spirit of love so simply in this sonnet. In 14 lines, he explains how love is eternal, and he poetically contrasts this with seasons that change throughout the year. This sonnet is written to his male friend – The Fair Youth – and describes a spiritual, ever-lasting love between the two.
The language can seem a bit archaic, so before you read the poem, have a look at the vocabulary list below.
Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Sonnet 130 is another of Shakespeare’s most popular sonnets. This poem is written to The Dark Lady, and it is a rather unconventional love poem. At the time, it was customary to write sonnets praising the beauty of the woman you were in love with, listing all her wonderful features and describing her face and figure. In this poem, Shakespeare turns everything upside down and refuses to present the common clichéd comparisons that you find in other poems. He insists that the woman he loves is a flesh-and-blood mortal and presents her in a much more realistic way than was common in the love poems of the time. However, Shakespeare loves a twist ending, and the last two sentences (the couplets) provide that: his love may not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but that doesn’t make her less lovable or important to him.
Again, before you read, go through the list of words:
Sonnet 130
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.
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