#sonnet 76

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 76 by William Shakespeare (read by Alfred Molina)

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?

Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O! know sweet love I always write of you,

And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent:

  For as the sun is daily new and old,   So is my love still telling what is told.

Source: The Complete Shakespeare Sonnets

[lovelysapphiic]

Sonnet 76

The first time it had happened Alec didn't really spend time thinking about it. It wasn't anything unusual for Magnus to have books or poems or some ancient scrolls lying around. He didn't even really look at the poem before neatly putting it back to Magnus' other poetry. If someone had asked him to tell them the poet's name Alec wouldn't have known the answer. The second time Alec found the piece of paper two weeks later on the kitchen counter he recognized the structure of the verses. Still, he didn't pay any attention to it before he put it back where it belonged. The third time he found it on the coffee table in the living room of the loft. He frowned. Why was this poem always laying around somewhere? He picked the paper up and looked at it. It was a Shakespeare poem. Sonnet 76. All published in 1609 if Alec remembered correctly. He didn't recall ever having read this one but he did remember reading sonnet 18 some time ago and actually thinking of his magical boyfriend.

"Why is my verse so barren of new pride?

So far from variation or quick change?

Why with the time do I not glance aside

To new-found methods and to compounds strange?

Why write I still all one, ever the same,

And keep invention in a noted weed,

That every word doth almost tell my name,

Showing their birth and where they did proceed?

O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,

And you and love are still my argument;

So all my best is dressing old words new,

Spending again what is already spent:

   For as the sun is daily new and old,

   So is my love still telling what is told."

Alec didn't like the first two quatrains but he supposed it was just the negativity in them that - since he's been with Magnus - he just couldn't relate to anymore. The rest of the poem was beautiful but didn't really explain Magnus' sudden affection for it. The door to the loft opened and Magnus walked in, shrugging off his coat in the process.

"Hello, darling." He walked over to press a soft kiss to Alec's lips. Alec smiled both at his favourite pet name and at the sweet kiss he received like everyday when they saw each other after working all day.

"Hi Magnus. Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

"I've found this poem around the loft three times in the last two weeks. Why do you like this one so much? I'm assuming you do because otherwise you wouldn't look at it so much." Alec looked down at the paper in his hands.

Magnus smiled. "It makes me think of you. How there will never be words that are good enough to describe my love for you, yet you are always present and so is your beauty. But somehow it is always new to me and everytime I look at you I experience the love all over again."

Alec cupped Magnus' face and kissed him with all the love he had. "No one has ever said words as beautiful as the ones you just said about me so Shakespeare and all the poetry in the world don't even matter to me the way you do."

"I love you, Alexander." Magnus smirked. "You know I met-"

Alec groaned dramatically. "Magnus, shut up if you were trying to say that you talked to William Shakespeare even once. You were 15 when Shakespeare died, you couldn't have met him. I know how old you are, babe, don't forget that."

Magnus smiled and kissed him again. "It was worth a try."

read on ao3

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 76 by William Shakespeare (read by Sir Patrick Stewart)

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?

Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O! know sweet love I always write of you,

And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent:

  For as the sun is daily new and old,   So is my love still telling what is told.

[theshakespearesonnets]

Sonnet 76: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O! know sweet love I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told.

Translation to modern English

Why is my verse so devoid of new devices – so resistant to variation and novelty? Why don’t I go along with the times and look around at newly adopted techniques and unfamiliar juxtapositions? Why do I write everything the same – always the same, confining all my ideas to their well-known clothes so that every word almost proclaims my name, where it was born and where it’s going to? Oh, you know, sweet love, I always write about you, and you, and love, are always my subject. So all I can do is clothe what I’ve already said in new words, spending again what I’ve already spent. In the same way that the sun is old and new every day, my love is always saying what has already been said.

[themostradicalthing]

We just started this in choir tonight (this recording is not my choir) for our big Shakespeare gig in April. Fucking love this sort of music 😭

[drknrhl-blog]

Shakespeare - Sonnet 76

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth and where they did proceed? O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told. 

“”But this is precisely backwards. The whole point of the poem (which, I would venture to say, has absolutely nothing to do with cannabis or cocaine) is that he would LOVE to be able to come up with the fashionable ‘new-found methods’ of expressing his love, but he can’t. “Compounds strange’ are compounds of trendy, newfangled LANGUAGE, not compounds cooked up in chemical labs. The ‘noted weed’ line is admittedly somewhat obscure, but near the bottom of the poem he laments that all his best efforts result merely in “dressing old words new”, and since ‘weed’ or weeds meant clothing in his day, his point in the ‘noted weed’ line is surely that his much-to-be-desired ‘invention’ always winds up getting kept buttoned up inside his ‘noted’ (i.e., his familiar and immediately recognizable) style. “”

[playbill]

"Small Herbs Have Grace": Did Shakespeare Smoke Pot?

[quothshakespeare-blog]

Sonnet 76

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O! know sweet love I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent:   For as the sun is daily new and old,   So is my love still telling what is told.