After reading the horribly boring and trite “love letters” from the disgraced governor of South Carolina to his Argentinian mistress, it would seem that the ability to write a good love letter is dead. Much less a sonnet, who writes sonnets anymore these days?
After analyzing these terrible pieces of writing, I needed to have my faith in love poetry restored. This desire led me to the wonderful, timeless, heart-melting prose from the most classic love poet in all of history.
Maybe I love this sonnet because my Dad reads it to my Mom on their anniversary, or maybe it’s just simply for the exquisite and captivating language. Either way, it restores my confidence in love, even when it seems nothing else can. I just cried a little when I reread it.
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 proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)