Day 72 - Sonnet #84: comparison, praise, verses, rival

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WOW - it's already been ONE YEAR! :-)

If you'd like to see how it all began, here's Day #1. I think we've come a long way...




Who is it that says most, which can say more,
Than this rich praise, that you alone, are you?
In whose confine immured is the store,
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell,
That to his subject lends not some small glory,
But he that writes of you, if he can tell,
That you are you, so dignifies his story.
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired every where.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.


What line or lines most resonate with you?

As always - feedback, comments and creativity are welcome!

Day 71 - Sonnet #59: beauty, birth, comparison, praise, time, history

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Musical version




If there be nothing new, but that which is,
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,
Which labouring for invention bear amis
The second burthen of a former child!
O that record could with a backward look,
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind at first in character was done.
That I might see what the old world could say,
To this composed wonder of your frame,
Whether we are mended, or where better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
O sure I am the wits of former days,
To subjects worse have given admiring praise.


What line (or lines) most resonates with you?

As always - feedback, comments and creativity are welcome!

Day 68 - Sonnet #21: muse, truth, comparison, verses, beauty

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fyi - rondure = roundness, sphericity



So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven it self for ornament doth use,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
Making a couplement of proud compare
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems:
With April's first-born flowers and all things rare,
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O let me true in love but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair,
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:
Let them say more that like of hearsay well,
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

As always - feedback, comments and creativity are welcome!