Poetry is honey for the soul (2) – William Shakespeare (and Olga)

           Poetry is honey for the soul

Today, we skip back in time. This is a privilege to go back and forth in poetry! From a contemporary American poet to a 16th/17th British poet. THE British poet, would some say. The poet or ONE OF THE poets, Anyway, I do not think Shakespeare needs an introduction. But, yet, there is a twist here again.

Olga offers us her choice of the 130th sonnet

as read by Alan Rickman.


My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.


And why would we leave Shakespeare and Dowland? In memoriam Alan Rickman:

poetry, music and voices.

3 thoughts on “Poetry is honey for the soul (2) – William Shakespeare (and Olga)

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