Showing posts with label T.S. Eliot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label T.S. Eliot. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

National Poetry Month - Shakespeare

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From us celebrating National Poetry Month, "Happy Birthday, Master Shakespeare! You're an inspiration to us all."

For your reading pleasure, a sonnet and an excerpt from my favorite poem, that just so happens to refer to one of the Bard's most beloved works:



Sonnet 100

  Where art thou Muse that thou forget’st so long,
    To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
    Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
    Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
    Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,
    In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
    Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
    And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
    Rise, resty Muse, my love’s sweet face survey,
    If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
    If any, be a satire to decay,
    And make time’s spoils despised every where.
    Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,
    So thou prevent’st his scythe and crooked knife.


... ... ... 

From "The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot:

Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
  “That is not it at all,
  That is not what I meant, at all.”
.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .
        110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,        115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
        120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
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