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Wednesday's Woe
Night's Plight
In a letter last night to a grieving mother, I wrote,
Many, many hours of turmoil were endured, sometimes making it difficult to sleep, other times awakening me with nightmares, only then to continue to haunt me during the daylight hours.
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But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.
~William Shakespeare
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Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
~William Shakespeare
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Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed night;
The night as tedious, woos th'approach of day;
Tired with the dusty toils of busy day,
Languished with horrors of the silent night;
Suffering the evils both of the day and night,
While no night is more dark than is my day,
Nor no day hath less quiet than my night...
~Astrophel and Stella
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Night's Plight
Sleeping at night, my mind’s confused and torn,
Sometimes I dream my baby girl is here–
Just like normal since the day she was born,
Then, suddenly realizing, she’s not here...
Awakening at day risks more grief galore.
For, no matter the distractions, the tasks,
Even escapes--whether lake or seashore,
I take my heart with me–its grief unmasks.
So, night or day, grief does not go away;
Grief itself takes on a life of its own–
My heart stays broken both in work and play.
I can’t expunge grief; it won’t stay gone!
Sleeping at night risks entering Death’s plight,
Tossing and turning in th’ Nightmare Review:
Life’s joys as tender embraces delight
Abruptly end at Death’s tolling curfew...
~Angie Bennett Prince, 10/21/08
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SONNET XXVII
William Shakespeare
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts--from far where I abide--
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Sidney. From Astrophel and Stella, Sonnet 89.
Now that of absence the most irksome night,
With darkest shade doth overcome my day;
Since Stella's eyes, wont to give me my day,
Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night,
Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed night;
The night as tedious, woos th'approach of day;
Tired with the dusty toils of busy day,
Languished with horrors of the silent night;
Suffering the evils both of the day and night,
While no night is more dark than is my day,
Nor no day hath less quiet than my night:
With such bad mixture of my night and day,
That living thus in blackest winter night,
I feel the flames of hottest summer day.
SONNET XXVIII
William Shakespeare
How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressed,
And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.
