Sonnet II: At Rest

At last, the dawn, in perfect form, I see
So formed, a positive reality.
Its purple state, its perfect choir, unveil
To shine, inspiringly, its song on me.

With form, and measure never void, it brings
A subtle mastery of the world it sings.
Without abash, I hear it tell a tale
Of majesty, and many more such things

Which burn with glory’s power, as they shine
Upon this shadow dappled world of mine.
My dreams are splendour, as they dance–prevail
With measure, and with form, and perfect line!

And dance I shall, as light–as mirrors bright
Reflect–avails, ’til dark, ’til death, ’til night!

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Why do the young man and I both love the dark lady?

I am, of course referring to Shakespeare’s sonnets. The most obvious element of the 154 sonnets has not been entertained. Perhaps this is because… I will not say it is due to the fact that no analysis of these sonnets has been performed by a poet. No, rather it is more possible that no poet or non poet, for that matter, has ever undertaken (as have I) to write a sequence of poems (and specifically sonnets) to himself.

Anyone who is familiar with me in the least will know that I tend toward long-winded explanations of subjects in which I am interested. However, here you will be disappointed. I will only state the following: Either first undertake the sequence I mentioned. Write yourself a sequence of poems–written from yourself as you are now, to yourself when much younger: a teen or a child perhaps.   It will help if they have the same form and perhaps would help more, for my purposes, if they were sonnets, but certainly, the more consistent structure, the better for this exercise. Write a sufficient number of them. Let us say… perhaps ten at the minimum. If you do this, you will know the answer to the question in the title of this article. You will not help but know the answer. Or if you are not willing to do this, you may read the next paragraph, but the answer will appear like speculation to you unless you have done what I ask.

The answer to the question is simply that these sonnets were all written by Mr. Shakespeare to his younger self. This renders both popular theories, one with merit, and one without, as incorrect. The first theory is obvious enough not to be stated, however it is that Shakespeare is writing to advise all young men, as there is no evidence of a particular young man whom he had befriended at the time the sonnets were written (during the plague, it seems, when he was all but “holed up” in his house and could not by law engage in his profession of staging his plays) the other theory is not worth a mention but marxists find one reason or another to promote it. Therefore I shan’t even justify it. It is without merit, and for more reasons than anyone is willing or able to state. Still… why not a message to all young men or a particular friend? His reference to the dark lady “that they both love” is the answer. But more than that there is no point in relating until you perform the exercise I suggest.

It is the simplest way to make the case (after which you should go back and read all 154 sonnets again.) Honestly. You will see that the ways in which someone speaks to his younger self are unique–are not, cannot be, those he would employ when speaking to anyone else. Try it. It will convince you! But, as I previously stated, all this will seem like supposition until you do as I ask.

Peacocking???

Regarding this:  entitled Liar, Liar, Books on Fire! I left the following comment, and once again I felt it too long that it should not be included here as a regular entry.

There is a book or two that, due to my advancing years, I cannot now remember having read–or not.  Still this is an interesting topic.  As a young man of science, I could not have imagined the reason or cause for “peacocking,” if I am using the offered term correctly.(?)

And, as a young man, the nature of the books I read, filled as they were with diagrams, equations and very, very densely specialised text, such fakery would have been inconceivable.  As a much (much, much, much) older man, I do of course understand the nature of a man who might wish to be thought greater than he is.

Still I would not commit this act of bravado.  And, as it happens, I myself have a very solid reason to commit such an act.  I have a standing agreement with a colleague of mine, who has some kind of irrational aversion to the reading of Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged,” to wit, that he will read the book in question if and when I complete Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamozov.”

I have tried.  Indeed I have.  I am some few chapters in at my last attempt.  But I believe my friend will win this contest of ours if I play fair.  And I will, I am afraid, even though I believe Miss Rand’s book will, for him, answer some very important questions which he has to me voiced over the many decades.

As for the above list:

I have read Orwell’s ‘1984’ I wish I could claim to have read it During the year itself, but I cannot now remember.  Most likely, I read it a few years before that time.

My sweet wife and I have read the entire “Lord of the Rings” trilogy aloud, taking turns over many successive evenings.  These books read very well in this way, almost as though they were written with such a method in mind.

I attempted, but did not finish “Pride and Prejudice” as a very young man.  I will here state that I enjoyed, to some degree, the 1/5th that I did read, but that its language was a bit too much for my equation-addled brain to parse.  Merely having fallen in love with a “humanities girl” was not then enough to grant me the gift of comprehension of such language.  (This failure is partly what led me to study the poetry of various periods–to my scientific mind, a much more efficient way to survey the language of various eras)  I have not attempted it yet again, but I believe that, were I to do so, it would afford me no trouble at all at this late date.

And, even though it was not so very long ago, my failed attempt to read “Catcher in the Rye” induced a kind of glaze of the eyes, which condition still has not completely abated.

Polyethylene Glycol 3350…

…can be taken in a carbonated soft-drink without significantly altering its taste.  What is more amazing than this, is that in so doing, one does not alter the “fizziness” of the beverage in the least.

One must be careful not to mix it in too quickly, because it will foam somewhat; however not nearly as much as when other dissolvable substances are added to such beverages.

I had expected the foaming to take place, but I did not expect enough carbonation to remain afterwards.  Somehow the resultant mixture was little changed–even after all the agitation necessary to dissolve 17 grams of the the stuff.