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.
~ rachman
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posted by rachman | 1:15 AM
2 Comments:
Poetry is an acquired taste.
Scott
Hi Scott, You are right as usual. Come to think of it, it was your poetry that got me to start visiting your site in the first place. I still love that poem about bunny.
Thanks for dropping by and I'll talk to you later, my friend.
~ rachman
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