This poem is a Shakespearean sonnet, with the rhyme scheme ABABCDCDEFEFGG, and written in iambic pentameter. In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter: So thy great gift, upon misprision* growing,Ĭomes home again, on better judgment making. Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing įor how do I hold thee but by thy granting,Īnd for that riches where is my deserving? It reads more like the work of a wounded lover who wants to hurt the Youth and earn his pity (and reassurance from the Youth that no, he still loves Shakespeare) than it does to an actual break-up poem to me, but lots of analysis indicates that others read this as a straight-up break-up poem.įarewell, thou art too dear for my possessing,Īnd like enough thou know'st thy estimate. Rather than bidding farewell to the Rival Poet, Shakespeare appears to be releasing the Fair Youth. This particular sonnet comes at the end of a sequence of poems talking about the importance of the Rival Poet to the Fair Youth. Read together, the sonnets tell a story of an evolving relationship, with the introduction of additional characters as the story progresses, including rival poets and the Dark Lady (for whom the last 28 sonnets were written). From sonnet 18 onward, a far more romantic relationship appears to exist between author and subject, with ups and downs as the sonnets progress, including linked sonnets here and there that tell a particular "chapter" in their relationship.
The first 17 of the Fair Youth sonnets advise the young man to marry and have children, so that his beauty can be passed on to subsequent generations, and appear to contain nothing more than platonic love (although the fact that the Shakespeare loved the person for whom they were written is not seriously in doubt).
Today's sonnet is part of the Fair Youth sonnets (#1-126), all of which are believed to have been written for the same young man (the leading candidate for which is Henry Wriothesley, 3rd Earl of Southampton. Today, I'm posting one of Shakespeare's sonnets - number 87 ("Farewell, thou are too dear for my possessing"). KellyrfinemanI quite frequently post poetry on Tuesdays, because poetry just once a week (for Friday) never seems enough to me.
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