In honor of

[fabrisse]

National Poetry Month and the date of Shakespeare's Death (and possibly birth), I give you Sonnet XXIII which is my favorite.

As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharg'd with burthen of mine own love's might.
O! let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

I mentioned Shakespeare to the girls I tutor last night. One of them asked me if he was my boyfriend. *headdesk*

Comments

[riverfox.livejournal.com]

Oh no she didn't. *desk*

[fabrisse.livejournal.com]

She did.

[daylyn.livejournal.com]

HOW OLD ARE THE GIRLS???????? *headdesk*

Thanks for the beautiful poem. How are you feeling by the way?

[fabrisse.livejournal.com]

Better.

The girls are 12-ish. 6th grade. This was after one of them had called me an old lady.

Last night was a real assault on my ego. *G*

[wadjet-theperv.livejournal.com]

An amazing sonnet *sigh* I adore Shakespeare; his comedies most of all, I think. It was only after school that I realised exactly how hilarious a writer he was, and that was a shame.

That last sentence is incredibly sad however, and shows just how much these students need your input.

[fabrisse.livejournal.com]

I try to get them interested in a wider world. Boys are more interesting though.

*sigh*