Sonnet on a Sunday

So as Lily loves Shakespeare’s sonnets and the next Land of the Fey book is about her. I thought it would be nice to have a regular delve into the work of the Bard. So every Sunday I’ll post a sonnet. Also if you think about Lily reading these to Alaric as he lay in the infirmary, some of them would cut quite close to the bone.

1

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.


There is a wonderful website shakespeares-sonnets.com which has commentary on the various sonnets and delves deeper into the meaning behind them. I’ve added a link to this site in the sidebar.