Friday, March 16, 2012

A Sonnet

I dedicate this post to the birthday of my good friend and comrade, Steven Molony.

In commemoration, allow me to re-post a pseudo-sonnet (the meter's a little imperfect in places) I wrote for him the previous year:

Would that thyself would fall no ill this day,
That four-and-twenty years from thence
Thou sprang onto foul Earth for to convey
A thespian craft, a mummer's humor-sense.
Would that, this blessed day, the planets grant,
Orbs once align'd, their portents naught but boons
Boards to tread, lines to speak, crowds to enchant.
E'ery player's hopeless fancy from dreams be hewn.
Would that thou spendst the day in good comp'ny.
With stout brethren nigh and wenches to hand.
Best companionship serve to distract thee
From a gruesome doom creeping on unplann'd.
Four-and-twenty years thou famously past.
Six-and-seventy 'fore death's icy grasp.

Hey! Everybody! Go to Steven's fan page and wish him happy birthday.

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