#sonnet 27

[bee--28]

And what if I say Shakespeare's Sonnet 27 is actually about Anderperry? What then?

Sonnet 27 from my Eversley Edition of The Work of Shakespeare: Volume 10

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 27 by William Shakespeare (read by Rosamund Pike)

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired:

For then my thoughts--from far where I abide-- Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see:

Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.

  Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,   For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

Source: poetryarchive.org

[lesbianathene]

Visit Original Link

sonnet 27 | for @joghurtbrot

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head, To work my mind, when body's work's expired: For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.   Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,   For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 27 by William Shakespeare (read by Sir John Gielgud)

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired:

For then my thoughts--from far where I abide-- Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see:

Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

Source: William Shakespeare - Sonnets, 1996

[tockamybeloved]

Sonnet 27

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired: For then my thoughts–from far where I abide– Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul’s imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

[bwthornton]

Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed by William Shakespeare Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travail tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired: For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see; Save that my soul’s imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new: Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. #Shakespeare #Sonnet27 #Poetry #Poems

[tulum-vibes]

Encouragement for writers

If you ever feel like you wrote something that doesn't make sense, just remember that Shakespeare-- one of the most famous, accomplished, world-renowned writers to have walked this earth-- wrote in one of his poems a line that literally translates to "tired with tiredness."

(for those wondering, the original line was in sonnet 27, and it says "weary with toil")

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 27 and 28 by William Shakespeare (read by Sir Patrick Stewart)

"Double feature. Sonnets 27 and 28" (@SirPatStew)

Sonnet 27

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired:

For then my thoughts--from far where I abide-- Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see:

Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.

  Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,   For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

Sonnet 28

How can I then return in happy plight, That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eas'd by night, But day by night and night by day oppressed,

And each, though enemies to either's reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee.

I tell the day, to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.

  But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,   And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.