Maggie's Farm

We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.

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Saturday, August 11. 2007

Saturday Verse: Shakespeare

Sonnet XCVll

              How like a winter hath my absence been
              From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
              What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
              What old December's bareness everywhere!
              And yet this time remov'd was summer's time,
              The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
              Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
              Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
              Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
              But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit;
              For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
              And thou away, the very birds are mute;
              Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer
              That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
Posted by Bird Dog in Saturday Verse at 05:36 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0)

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The Bard did not number his sonnets. That was the product of later scholars.
#1 Habu on 2007-08-11 13:10 (Reply)
I know, but it sure was handy to number them, although the first line would serve well too. Scholars get obsessive, or they would run out of things to do.
#2 BD on 2007-08-12 20:12 (Reply)

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