 Romance/Love: April 17, 2013 Issue [#5621] |
  Romance/Love
This week: The Love Sonnets of Shakespeare Part I Edited by: Crys-not really here  
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Hello! My name is Crys-not really here and I am once again happy to be the editor for the Romance/Love Newsletter this week. In honor of National Poetry Month, today's newsletter is about one of Shakespeare's most well-known love sonnets. |
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The Love Sonnets of Shakespeare: "My mistress' eyes. . ."
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.
-Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXX
Perhaps one of the most famous of Shakespeare's Sonnets (and one of my personal favorites), begins "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun. . ." It tells the story of a man who is madly in love with what we may refer to as a "plain Jane." Her lips aren't as red as coral, her hair is like "black wires," and her voice isn't exactly music. Yet, he thinks her love is so rare that she might as well be an angel.
I've always loved this poem, because, unlike many typical love poems, it is a celebration of being normal, of not being of Helen-like beauty. And although many might take offense of the descriptions of the woman (who really wants to be told their hair is like black wire?), I like to think Shakespeare was making a statement about looking past beauty when seeing true love. Or even seeing beauty in what may first appear not beautiful. The old saying goes, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." That's why I don't think Shakespeare was being rude in describing his "mistress." He saw beauty in hers that others may not have.
That, after all, is the meaning of love.
Happy National Poetry Month to everyone! I hope you check out my Poetry Newsletter on the origins of National Poetry Month: "Poetry Newsletter (April 10, 2013)" |
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