Well, it is Valentine's Day -- not a day I tend to observe and indeed one I rather deprecate for the ridiculous amount of money that is wasted on slushy cards. However, I thought it would be a good excuse for a poem, and here is one I am very fond of. But is it a love poem? It appears to be the opposite, or at least it is obviously a poem about breaking off a love affair. But read it carefully before you make a final judgement. I have to say it used to defeat most of my students, who got completely sidetracked by the personification in the second half. Something to think about, anyway, once you have opened all those delightful red-hearted cards I am sure you are all deluged with this morning.
Sonnet LXI: Since There's No Help
Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part,
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have giv'n him over,
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
