It struck me today that it’s almost that most joyous day of the year: Valentine’s Day. When everyone goo’s and gah’s and pines over some hot sweet thang. With cupid and his fucking bow and arrows, and his disturbingly sick sense of humor. But I guess we should hardly leave our love lives to flying naked babies with weaponry. Who’s idea was that anyway? Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen, if you ask me.
Anyway, so in my compilative state of mind, I decided to put together some songs to pine by, and was reminded of Willy S.’s Sonnet 29 (shown below).
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, — and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at Heaven’s gate;
For they sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That when i scorn to change my state with kings’.
— Willy S.