Shakespeare's Sonnets

William Shakespeare wrote 154 sonnets. I have always been fascinated by them. Their format, fourteen lines of rhymed iambic pentameter (ababcdcdefefgg)divided into four sections (introduction of theme, explanation of theme, the "turn," and the couplet that makes the final point) that I have found to be, for me, the perfect sonnet form. While I could appreciate other sonnet forms, and other sonnets, none intrigued me like the sonnets of Shakespeare.

However tonight, as a part of a tribute countdown to his birthday, I would like to point out the more inspirational nature of his sonnets, and one sonnet, in particular. I am not going to explain why I think that Shakespeare's Sonnet 50 and Robert Frost's Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening are "interesting" together. I will leave that to the readers decide for themselves. I don't know whether it is coincidence or mere serendipity. I will leave those conclusions to academics. I'm just saying. I find that these poems seem to belong together. And to complement each other.

SONNET 50
William Shakespeare

How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek (my weary travel's end)
Doth teach that case and that repose to say
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.'
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider loved not speed being made from thee:
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side,
For that same groan doth put this in my mind,
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.


STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch is woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.