woww!! what a way to send us all out reciting shakespeare in our daily lives! anne is a wonderful poet and visual artist living in nashville, and is an alum of the bennington writing seminars, where she also facilitates the student reading series each term at the same podium she’s reading from tonight. anne was one of the first and most enthusiastic followers of ourdailysonnet and when i realized we’d be ending the sonnets while anne and i were both in vermont, it was only too obvious who should be reading us the last one!

thank you anne — for the beautiful reading at the culmination of this whole endeavor!

i’d like to take a quick moment here to thank everyone — our our visitors, the sites where we filmed, youtube, wordpress, all of the blogs who linked to us, all of the friends who told friends about us, the arden shakespeare, bennington college, toscanini’s…and especially: our readers, all 128 of them!!! (in no particular order):
gus
holly
shona
heather
brooke
diana d.
siri
emily
ian
matt
adam & jessica
jeffrey
adam a.
allie
mike
christina
diana
sean
delilah
winston
brady
mian
sue
michael
mikki
carmen
larry
diane
bob
stacey
andrea
david
amanda
alicia
cynthia
abe
donna
tom
kenny
melaina
thiana
katherine
nicole
sara
simon
christine
sarah d.
claire
allison
mitch
norah d.
ricardo
jenny
jenny f.
corky
kyle
mike k.
gale
amanda l.
sam m.
keyse
justin
tatiana
leah
norah k.
sophie
albert
dustin
ann
rachel
jarrod
meghan
allison b.
emma
sarah j.
andrea p.
mike
erica d.
mike
nicole
allison
steve
meg
kamala
katie
eve
anthony
tania
jen
helene
sasha
joanna
ted
susan
julia
jen z.
tracey
ramis
sara
fritz
vaughn
justine
susanna
amanda a.
willa
robert & chris
marissa
morton
pandora
mika
debbie
matthew
elaine
brett
pam
julie
victoria
tom
genevieve
greg
edmond
yasi
tom e.
ben
anne

thank you everyone — thank you. it has meant so much to have you all here, looking, reading, and taking part. now — keep doing it, putting poetry into your day to day.

xoAT

Sonnet 154
The little Love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow’d chaste life to keep
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire
Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d;
And so the general of hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm’d.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
Which from Love’s fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseased; but I, my mistress’ thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.

what a reading! what a fire! matthew is a wonderful, widely-published and pushcart prize nominated poet and translator, and he took a minute out of his last night here at bennington to read this one to us. how grateful are we??

thank you matthew!

one more to go!!!

Sonnet 153
Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep:
A maid of Dian’s this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrow’d from this holy fire of Love
A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress’ eye Love’s brand new-fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied, a sad distemper’d guest,
But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire–my mistress’ eyes.

wow!! elaine took a moment out of a busy post-reading social din to read us sonnet 152 — and we’re so grateful! elaine is a wonderful and widely published poet, a graduate of the bennington writing seminars, the founder of the writer’s studio in virginia, and a wonderfully, amazingly generous spirit. we’re truly lucky to have her here to bring us toward the end of the project!

thank you elaine!!

Sonnet 152
In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing,
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn,
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
But why of two oaths’ breach do I accuse thee,
When I break twenty? I am perjured most;
For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee
And all my honest faith in thee is lost,
For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness,
Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy,
And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness,
Or made them swear against the thing they see;
For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured I,
To swear against the truth so foul a lie!

wow! how wonderful is that? brett is a fabulous poet finishing up her master’s degree at bennington, and she reads for us in snowy vermont — after climbing through a foot of snow and dusting off a bench just to give us a nice view. thank you brett — this is absolutely fantastic!

Sonnet 151
Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.

what a reading!!! oh wow! i’m so thrilled that pam, a fellow cantabrigian, and a fabulous poet, was willing to honor us with this reading, and for giving us such an incredible sonnet gift today.

thank you pam!

only 4 more to go!

Sonnet 150
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There is such strength and warrantize of skill
That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds?
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?
O, though I love what others do abhor,
With others thou shouldst not abhor my state:
If thy unworthiness raised love in me,
More worthy I to be beloved of thee.

beautiful! julie is an artist, poet, and fiction writer finishing up her MFA at bennington this semester. we’re so lucky to have her giving us this fantastic reading as we near the end of the cycle!

thank you julie!!

Sonnet 149
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,
When I against myself with thee partake?
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake?
Who hateth thee that I do call my friend?
On whom frown’st thou that I do fawn upon?
Nay, if thou lour’st on me, do I not spend
Revenge upon myself with present moan?
What merit do I in myself respect,
That is so proud thy service to despise,
When all my best doth worship thy defect,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?
But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind;
Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind.

how lovely! i was so honored when victoria agreed to read for the blog. assistant director of the bennington writing seminars, victoria is also a brilliant poet, and as we can see from this reading, a brilliant reader of other people’s poetry.

thank you victoria!! for the wonderful reading and for taking time out of your crazy schedule in vermont!

Sonnet 148
O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love’s eye is not so true as all men’s ‘No.’
How can it? O, how can Love’s eye be true,
That is so vex’d with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.
O cunning Love! with tears thou keep’st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.

nicely, wonderfully, perfectly done! tom is a writer living in cambridge and one of the coolest people ever. the first time i met him was several years ago, and he was reading my job application at the cafe. one of the questions was “last three songs listened to.” i was out in the front waiting nervously the verdict. when he emerged from the kitchen and shouted “we love hot chip!” and gave me a thumbs up, i knew i had a chance at the job…

thank you tom!!!

Sonnet 147
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly express’d;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

here’s genevieve!:

oh wow, what a wonderful reading!! genevieve is a poet living in new york, a recent winner of the 2009 Amy Award for poetry and a finalist for the Ruth Lilly Fellowship…her poems appear widely! google her and find out her wonder!

thank you genny for sharing this! it’s beautiful!

Sonnet 146
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
These rebel powers that thee array;
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body’s end?
Then soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there’s no more dying then.

winter wonderful!!! how amazing is this scenic sonnet from santa-hatted greg, who is a local teacher and generally one of the coolest and nicest people we’ve ever met. for those of you watching in warmer climes, this is in fact about what it looks like around here — so thank you greg, for the beautiful reading in this very lovely setting, and for reminding us all that shakespeare is a man for any season.

thanks!!

Sonnet 146
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
These rebel powers that thee array;
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body’s end?
Then soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there’s no more dying then.