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Sonnet 54

Rating: 3.1
Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,
And mask in myrth lyke to a comedy:
Soone after when my joy to sorrow flits,
I waile and make my woes a tragedy.
Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,
Delights not in my merth nor rues my smart:
But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry
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Abhimanyu Kumar.s 28 November 2017
Poet's Poet for a reason at least on love. Superb
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Love Green 28 July 2014
hey! i'm new to this site can u check my peoms?
1 4 Reply
Savita Tyagi 28 July 2014
This poem reminds me of ancient Upanishadic lore of two birds on a tree. While one our outer self enjoys all the fruits of pain and pleasure our soul looks on be holding us calm and quiet. Ancients wrote with reverence about nature's play. Spencer finds same play frustrating. Enjoyed this version too. closer to our reality!
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Joshua Postma 06 October 2015
what is the poem called about the two birds? :)
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Joshua Postma 06 October 2015
what is the name of the poem with the two birds? :)
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Beautiful piece, well written!
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Pranab K Chakraborty 28 July 2012
Fantastic catastrophe for ever-defeated lover of an unknown zone. Really unique the inference taken by oneself after a long process of waiting, expecting nearness every time and ultimate gatherance of frustrating postulation....SHE IS NO WOMAN, BUT A SENSELESS STONE.......................................Pranab k chakraborty...29/07/2012
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Michael Pruchnicki 28 July 2011
The narrator sits in a theater watching himself play various roles on the stage. Which we all do at one time or another, don't we? Our perception of ourself varies from day to day, hour to hour even, as our mood shifts from joy or pleasure to woe or unhappiness - it all depends, don't you see? The observant woman 'beholds him with constant eye, ' she sees him straight on and is not subject to his fits or moods or self-delusions. Like some men, or most men, the speaker senses her clear-eyed vision and resents her for what he sees as her hardness of heart.
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Yet she, beholding me with constant eye, Delights not in my merth nor rues my smart: But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry She laughs and hardens evermore her heart. He had already gained her attention, seems she just wanted him to bat up and be a man.
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Joseph Poewhit 28 July 2010
Man has his will, but woman gets her way. ALSO, woman are like alcohol, just have one.
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Ramesh T A 28 July 2010
His audience is hard nut to crack! Nice poem by Spencer!
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Joey Valenzuela 28 July 2010
this poem is an expression of a man who assumed that the woman cannot love him......... assumption.....maybe because he can't tell her....... he's like me....poor man.....haha
3 4 Reply

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