I Have Measured Out...

Sonnet CXXX
by William Shakespeare

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 damask'd, 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.


All of Willy's sonnets are great, they're like really nice, expensive Belgian chocolate, the kind you eat very slowly, just to savour every bite as much as possible. This, however, is truly my favourite.

SONNET XVII by pablo neruda...

Eric quoted by far my favourite sonnet by anyone.

Silly, but I like this line.  Always have.

On the day you come, rising up...


Part of it's the way it's sung.  It's from Powderfinger's The Day You Come.

I always hear it as:

On the day you'll come, rising up...

Triumphant little sad thing about faith and seeking and the goal.  Trials and faith.  Like it.

In a similar vein I'm also fond of Radiohead's Exit Music for a Film.

Breathe, keep breathing.
I can't do this alone.


Thinking of it today because there's a silly poem I'll be using in class next week about an abandoned dog.

Awww.

The dog dies, tho.

What's the title of the poem?

He Will Come by Gina Richey.
(aka. "Pathos, you dawg!")

Don't close the door.
Don't push me away.
Why are you leaving?
Don't make me stay.

Slow down the car.
I can't keep up.
This pavement is hot.
And my pads are cut.

I'm so hungry and thirsty,
Darkness is near,
But I shouldn't leave.
He will come for me here.

Every car that passes,
I chase it to see
If it's my master
Coming for me.

Overtaken with weakness,
My body is numb.
I'm so sick and so lonely.
Oh please, let him come!

My thoughts are fading.
My chest feels like lead.
I'm sleepy, so sleepy.
I can't lift my head.

It's so quiet, so peaceful.
All remains still.
There is my master
At my home on the hill.

Yes, I can see him.
He's calling my name.
His voice is so gentle.
His hands are the same.

He decided he wants me.
Things will be fine.
I really do love him,
that master of mine.

My tail wags with pleasure.
I can't catch my breath.
He came in my dreams.
But so did my Death.

Calach, that almost made me cry.

Shucks, I teared up too.

But manly tears, I tell ya.  Manly.

Man's best friend, you know.  A dog.

wo zhi dao. To this day, I can't listen to "The Ballad of old Yeller" without crying.
Yeats had a similar sad poem:

Two Songs Of A Fool
by William Butler Yeats

I
A SPECKLED cat and a tame hare
Eat at my hearthstone
And sleep there;
And both look up to me alone
For learning and defence
As I look up to providence.
I start out of my sleep to think
Some day I may forget
Their food and drink;
Or, the house door left unshut,
The hare may run till it's found
The horn's sweet note and the tooth of the hound.
I bear a burden that might well try
Men that do all by rule,
And what can I
That am a wandering-witted fool
But pray to God that He ease
My great responsibilities?
I slept on my three-legged stool by thc fire.
The speckled cat slept on my knee;
We never thought to enquire
Where the brown hare might be,
And whether the door were shut.
Who knows how she drank the wind
Stretched up on two legs from the mat,
Before she had settled her mind
To drum with her heel and to leap?
Had I but awakened from sleep
And called her name, she had heard.
It may be, and had not stirred,
That now, it may be, has found
The horn's sweet note and the tooth of the hound.