Vintage: "To His Lady"

Here's a decidedly vintage sonnet: October 6, 1983
          First Assignment: Sonnet
          Prof. Richmond's English 117S: Shakespeare

TO HIS LADY

I shall not wander in twisted conceits,
Nor cultivate crazes best left behind,
Nor waste vain efforts procuring young sweets,
When virtuous love composes my mind.
Good thoughts, better words, most excellent verse--
All features to furnish (with wit, with tact)
Fond feelings that now I merely rehearse,
Motions I go through, scenes I enact.
My stage-craft flourishes, though plotting's a ruse:
"Love is a masque where we all play our part."
What use for the scenery, when lacking a muse?
What use for the masque when the muse lacks a heart?
You'll grant I never saw a goddess go:
Down with the masque, my dear--on with the show.

--Matthew Duckworth


(I was cleaning out some boxes in the garage this afternoon when I happened upon a very old box filled with very old assignments--oh beloved undergraduate days.   Prof. Richmond actually read my sonnet aloud in class, which pleased and embarrassed me to no end.)

Pound's "Villonaud For This Yule"

VILLONAUD FOR THIS YULE

Towards the Noel that morte saison
(Christ make the shepherds' homage dear!) 
Then when the grey wolves everychone
Drink of the winds their chill small-beer
And lap o' the snows food's gueredon
Then makyth my heart his yule-tide cheer
 (Skoal! with the dregs if the clear be gone!)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

Ask ye what ghost I dream upon?
(What of the magians' scented gear?) 
The ghosts of dead loves everyone
That make the stark winds reek with fear
Lest love return with the foison sun
And slay the memories that me cheer
(Such as I drink to mine fashion)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

Where are the joys my heart had won?
(Saturn and Mars to Zeus drawn near!) 
Where are the lips mine lay upon,
Aye! where are the glances feat and clear
That bade my heart his valor don?
I skoal to the eyes as grey-blown mere
(Who knows whose was that paragon?)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

Prince: ask me not what I have done
Nor what God hath that can me cheer
But ye ask first where the winds are gone
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.

--Ezra Pound