Sonnet 3
Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest,
Now is the time that face should form another,
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb,
Of his self-love to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother’s glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime,
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live remembered not to be,
Die single and thine image dies with thee.
May 12th, 2006 at 5:42 am
Great fun - a refreshing and enjoyable interpretation :-)
Kind regards
David
May 16th, 2006 at 8:17 am
Hi,
You are far from making a mockery of the sonnets, as one of your less appreciative, extremely rude and myopic listeners said. I’m an Oxford University educated English Graduate, who has thus far been captivated and stimulated by your honest interpretations of these works. They are there to be read, and enjoyed by all, and if they move and stimulate you, then shaft academic snobbery and personal affectations you have a right to your interpretation, and no one has the right to say you are making a mockery of them.
Kindest wishes, and keep going!
Alex
May 16th, 2006 at 3:13 pm
Thanks David and Alex!