One year, for composition class, I wrote a shape poem about how much I disliked Valentine’s Day. In subsequent years, I regarded the supposed holiday with some apprehension. As I encountered sweet notes from friends and thoughtful attentions from family members, I came to not to totally despise the frilly idea of doing something nice on February 14. I couldn’t quite embrace Valentine’s Day, because like love poems, I did not have a clear idea of what everyone was making a fuss about.
As I have grown and experienced more of life, I’ve come to sympathize with sonnet writers. Which assisted me when my English teacher assigned a collection of love poetry to read for homework. She also recommended, repeatedly, that we might want to memorize one and recite it to a special someone. Her suggestion was met by uncomfortable shifting in chairs and awkward smiles. Nevertheless, I found myself appreciating the endearing lines of affectionate language.
In the spirit of this red hearted holiday, here is one of those assigned pieces, by the sonnet master himself, William Shakespeare.
Let me not the marriage of true minds
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:
Oh. 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 proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever love.