The Marriage of True Minds
I was going through some things on my computer this morning and came across this bit of poetry. I know that many people have lost, or usually have never found, the love of poetry; so perhaps that is why I wanted to post it. There is not a lot of poetry that I love, but the reason is because it takes time to appreciate poetry and I don't often take the time. This piece is one of the few for which I have taken the time. And the reason this one received special attention is probably because it was once whispered to me in the dark of a summer's night. It seems like yesterday; it seems like a hundred years ago. (Sigh!) Sweet memories! I may do this more often.
Shakespeare's CXVI (116) Sonnet:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.