Tag: Shakespeare

Sonnet 18 William Shakespeare poem AZpoetry.com

Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare

“Sonnet 18” by William Shakespeare

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 ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

About the poem “Sonnet 18” by William Shakespeare

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

Few poems in the English language are as instantly recognizable as William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18. Opening with the iconic line, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”, this timeless love poem is part of Shakespeare’s 154-sonnet sequence, most of which are believed to have been written in the 1590s.

Summary of Sonnet 18

In this 14-line sonnet, Shakespeare praises the beloved’s beauty, comparing it favorably to a summer’s day. While summer may be lovely, it is fleeting—subject to rough winds, scorching heat, and an eventual decline into autumn. The speaker argues that the beloved’s beauty is more constant, more temperate, and immune to the decay that time brings to all things.

The poem concludes with the bold claim that the beloved will achieve immortality through the enduring power of verse:

“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

Analysis of Sonnet 18

A Celebration of Eternal Beauty Through Poetry

Shakespeare’s use of the sonnet form—a tightly structured 14-line poem with a rhyme scheme of ABAB CDCD EFEF GG—emphasizes both technical mastery and emotional intimacy. At its core, Sonnet 18 is a love poem, but it is also a declaration of art’s ability to preserve memory and beauty forever.

Where nature is cyclical and bound by time, poetry resists decay. The speaker elevates the beloved’s loveliness to something divine, untouchable, and timeless—not by denying mortality, but by using language to triumph over it.

Love Beyond the Season

Unlike the sometimes superficial comparisons in other love poetry of the time, Shakespeare subverts expectations. Rather than praising the beloved as “just like” a summer’s day, the speaker moves beyond that metaphor, arguing that the beloved surpasses summer. Summer fades—but the beloved’s “eternal summer shall not fade.” This conceptual shift turns what begins as a romantic gesture into a deeper reflection on permanence, art, and devotion.

Universal Emotion, Lasting Impact

Sonnet 18 remains one of Shakespeare’s most celebrated works because it speaks to something universal: the human desire to preserve what we love, to fight back against the tide of time, and to express deep emotion with precision and beauty. Its influence can be felt across centuries of poetry, including right here in Arizona’s contemporary love poems.

Explore More Love Poetry on AZPoetry.com

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 reminds us of the emotional power that love poems can carry—then and now. At AZPoetry.com, you’ll find a growing collection of love poems written by poets from across Arizona. Whether you’re looking for romance, heartbreak, longing, or joy, we invite you to discover how local voices are keeping the tradition of love poetry alive in the desert.

👉 Click here to explore Arizona Love Poetry ›

Alas Poor Yorick poem by The Klute featuring hyperrealistic jester at ren fair | AZpoetry.com

‘Alas, Poor Yorick’ by The Klute

Alas, Poor Yorick

I regard the sad little man
As I stand in line at Ye Olde Churro Hut
With equal measures of pity and hatred
He wears a tri-cornered, tri-colored hat that is by design
Three sizes too large for his head
Upon each corner rests a single bell that jingles
With each act of prehistoric vaudeville that he performs
Mistaking the expression on my face as an invitation
He’s coming my way
Little does he know, I hate jesters
I hate them with the white-hot intensity of an Inquisitor’s branding iron
Jesters provoke within me a desire to transcend the Renaissance
And go back to the Stone Age
Where it would be perfectly acceptable to take a large rock
And smash his proto-mime skull in
But this is the modern era
While I’m certain that no jury in America
Would convict me for killing a jester
I stay my hand
Because this is not his fault
He doesn’t want to be a jester
No one does.
No one wants to don a pair of tights,
Paint their faces in the tradition of Emmett Kelly
And prance about like a magnificent poof
If God had granted him the stature he would have chosen to be a knight
Or at least a page
Had he been born with rakish good looks and a way with the ladies,
He could have been a rogue
And if he had been in possession of musical talent
He could have been a minstrel
(although I hate minstrels too)
But his thin, short, and sexless reality
Has collided with the Dungeons and Dragons fantasies of his youth
And the result continues his happy ambling gait
Towards my place in line at Ye Olde Churro Hut
I desperately scan the crowd for a broadsword
To cleave this clown in twain
But finding none,
I steel myself for the upcoming barrage of stale quips, bad puns, and friendly jibes
“Prithee my lord, wouldst thou like to hear the tale of Punch and Judy?”
I grab him by his massive lapels and pull him to my face

No.
No I wouldn’t.

There’s a reason why Punch and Judy didn’t make it out of the Middle Ages alive.
People are fonder of the Black Death than they are of Punch and Judy.
Now I know this isn’t your fault.
All I want is some fried dough
And I’ll leave.

The awkward silence is broken by the shout of “Huzzah! Another twenty pounds for the King!”
I release him and he scurries off to the friendly couple from Sun City
That seem quite willing to put up with his capering.
I collect my Churro and sit under a shade tree
Of all the things arcane that this Renaissance Fair had to conjure up

Alas poor Yorick.
I knew him Horatio.

About the poet The Klute

Alas Poor Yorick was written by The Klute in 2002, originally intended for a chapbook entitled “Damn the Torpedoes”. The Klute was a popular Arizona slam poet for nearly 25 years, and this poem captures his satirical voice. Also known as Bernard Schober, The Klute often used humor to introduce new ideas into the Arizona culture. At the time, this poem was performed for mostly conservative audiences that dominated Arizona from the 1950s until the state began to flip politically in 2020. Tap here to learn more about The Klute on AZpoetry.com.