Silly Love Sonnets You’d think that people would have had enough of silly love songs. But I look around me and I see it isn't so. Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs. And what's wrong with that? I’d like to know, cause here I go, again. -Paul McCartney Like them or not, the Beatles are one of the most influential bands in the history of rock and roll. Their style of music and their topic of lyrics varied throughout their career, and stylistic differences between two of its most celebrated members, John Lennon and Paul McCartney, caused the band to split on April 10th, 1970. Lennon wanted to write more serious music, and once famously stated that McCartney only ever wrote “silly love songs” for the group. In response, McCartney wrote a song titled “Silly Love Songs.” As a student of literature, I have been keenly aware of the stigma that surrounds what is considered high-brow literature and what is considered low-brow literature. Shakespeare is read with zeal by scholars of all kinds. It is analyzed time and time again, characters are biopsied, their actions recorded and considered carefully, and papers are published by the hundreds on a few lines of text. Those same scholars would laugh at Paul McCartney’s “Silly Love Song” and praise Lennon’s “Imagine.” There is without a doubt a divide between the deep and complicated and the superficial and easy in the world of literature. Lennon does have a point that there is something innately contemplative and scholarly about texts that consider “deep” matters, but silly love songs, however, have their place. McCartney knew this, and built his career on it.

Just like in the world of pop music, renaissance poetry has more serious works just as it has its more lighthearted works. The most famous authors of the renaissance like John Donne, Shakespeare, or Sir Phillip Sidney all have works that are deep and all have works that are superficial. Surely, Shakespeare spent countless hours refining the character of Hamlet and planning in intricate detail every action he would take on his quest for vengeance. It is simply a matter of opinion, however, if to read Hamlet’s story is more enjoyable than a single one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Critics and scholars will certainly find that Hamlet, taken as a whole, is far superior to a lone sonnet, and this may be true. After all, Hamlet is deep and complex on many levels. There are a great number of characters, all with their own motives and feelings, and Shakespeare masterfully intertwines all of these things into a coherent tale. His sonnet sequence, taken together, does tell a story, but it is possible to take them on their own, out of context, and read them as individual little stories of their own. They may carry some meaning just below surface level, but a reader does not have to work hard to divulge that meaning. Compared to one of Shakespeare’s plays, they are simplistic, yet still perfectly nice. The relative greatness or inferiority of any work of literature is purely subjective. Great texts are written to prove that certain works are good and others bad, but we must remember that the purpose of all prose and poetry is not always to be deep and meaningful. Sometimes, a reader does not want to have to delve into study to properly enjoy a sonnet or story. Sometimes, a silly love sonnet is

all that is needed. Nothing that is overly complicated, something that can be contemplated, enjoyed, and passed on to the next lover of poetry. The following works can be considered just that, silly love sonnets.

Thomas Wyatt Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542) is credited with introducing the sonnet into the English language. Much of his work was in translation, but he did create his own original poetry as well.

Untitled The lively sparks that issue from those eyes, Against the which there vaileth no defence, Have pierced mine heart, and done it none offence, With quaking pleasure more than once or twice. Was never man could anything devise The sun beams to turn with so great vehemence To daze man's sight, as by their bright presence. Dazed am I; much like unto the guise Of one stricken with dint1 of lightning, Blinded with the stroke, erring here and there, So call I for help, I not when ne where, The pain of my fault patiently bearing. For after the blaze, as is no wonder Of deadly noise hear I the fearful thunder.

1 Dint, n. A strike or blow

Untitled Such vain thought as wonted to mislead me In desert hope, by well assured moan, Makes me from company to live alone, In following her whom reason bids me flee. And after her my heart would fain1 be gone, But armed sighs my way do stop anon, 'Twixt hope and dread locking my liberty ; So fleeth she by gentle cruelty. Yet as I guess, under disdainful brow One beam of ruth2 is in her cloudy look : Which comforts the mind, that erst3 for fear shook ; That bolded straight the way ; then seek I how To utter forth the smart I bide within ; But such it is, I not how to begin. 1 Fain, adj. Gladly, well-pleased 2 Ruth, n. A feeling of pity 3 Erst, adv. At first, as opposed to afterwards

Untitled I abide, and abide ; and better abide, After the old proverb the happy day And ever my Lady to me doth say, ' Let me alone, and I will provide.' I abide, and abide, and tarry the tide, And with abiding speed well ye may. Thus do I abide I wot alway, N' other obtaining, nor yet denied. Aye me! this long abiding Seemeth to me, as who sayeth A prolonging of a dying death, Or a refusing of a desired thing. Much were it better for to be plain, Than to say, 'Abide,' and yet not obtain.

Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586) had a great love when he was a young man that was never to be, he fell in love with a young woman named Penelope Devereux, who was to be married to another man, Robert Rich. This unrequited love influenced his life, and also his poetry, including some of the poems in his most famous sequence of sonnets, Astrophil and Stella.

XXIV Rich fools there be whose base and filthy heart Lies hatching still the goods wherein they flow, And damning their own selves to Tantal's1 smart, Wealth breeding want, more blest, more wretched grow. Yet to those fools heaven such wit doth impart, As what their hands do hold, their heads do know; And knowing, love; and loving, lay apart As sacred things, far from all danger's show. But that rich fool, who by blind fortune's lot The richest gem of love and life enjoys, And can with foul abuse such beauties blot, Let him, deprived of sweet but unfelt joys, Exiled for aye from those high treasures which He knows not, grow in only folly rich! Editors note: The heavy use of the word “rich” in this poem is due to the fact that Sidney’s muse for Stella, Penelope Devereux, was married to a man named Rich. 1 Tantal. In Greek mythology, Tantalus offended the gods and was forced to stand in a pool of cool, clear water, with an olive tree growing overhead. When he went to drink the water, it rescinded out of his reach, and when he reached for an olive, the branches lifted out of his reach. From his name, we get the word “tantalize.”

Untitled My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; There never was a bargain better driven. His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves my heart for once it was his own; I cherish his because in me it bides1. His heart his wound receivèd from my sight; My heart was wounded with his wounded heart; For as from me on him his hurt did light, So still methought in me his hurt did smart: Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss, My true love hath my heart and I have his. 1 Bides, v, dwell

John Donne (1572-1631) was a metaphysical poet in his day, and wrote what was, at the time, strange and different poetry. His works were not typical of their period, but still were and are considered very good. In his youth he was promiscuous and took many lovers. Later in life he settled down with a woman named Anne More, against her father’s wishes. His poetry is inspired both by his young, rakish days and by his great love for his wife. The Good Morrow I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ? But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ? Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den1 ? 'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ; If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear ; For love all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ; Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ; Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one. My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ; Where can we find two better hemispheres Without sharp north, without declining west ? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ; If our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die. 1 Seven sleeper’s den. This refers to a fable that was popular at that time. In it, seven christian youths his in a cave to escape persecution, where they ended up sleeping for approximately three centuries.

Break of Day Stay, O sweet, and do not rise ; The light that shines comes from thine eyes ; The day breaks not, it is my heart, Because that you and I must part. Stay, or else my joys will die, And perish in their infancy.

The Sun Rising Busy old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ? Saucy pedantic1 wretch, go chide2 Late school-boys and sour prentices, Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices ; Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. Thy beams so reverend, and strong Why shouldst thou think ? I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, But that I would not lose her sight so long. If her eyes have not blinded thine, Look, and to-morrow late tell me, Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me. Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay." She's all states, and all princes I ; Nothing else is ; Princes do but play us ; compared to this, All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy. Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we, In that the world's contracted thus ; Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be To warm the world, that's done in warming us. Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ; This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere. 1 Pedantic, adj. Book Learned, but with no worldly experience 2 Chide v. Scold

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)needs no introduction. He is without a doubt the most famous poet who ever lived, and arguably the best. He is most loved for his plays and histories, yet his sonnets are just as well written. Sonnet 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

References Simpson, J. A., and E. S. C. Weiner. The Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon, 1989. Print. "Luminarium: Anthology of English Literature." Luminarium: Anthology of English Literature. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 Dec. 2012.