well, I blew it last week, what with the last week of national poetry month, and Shakespeare’s birthday (1564-1616) falling on a Monday. My friend Adam probably said it best via Twitter, "His passport accessed all worlds: from fools to kings, profane to profound, & comedy to tragedy. The best. Ever." But I was too busy performing the profane and mundane, yes, likely in the guise of the fool, to get my weekly missive out in time. My apologies, Misters S.
I’m certain we’ve read the below poem once before, and I’m pretty sure we’ve read it twice. But it’s too tempting for today, what with its mention of the new month, and its kind-of-the-opposite-of-carpe diem ethos. The man knew his way around end-rhyme, that’s for sure. Enjoy, and enjoy all your summer days! -ed.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.