British Literature

To Be Or Not To Be

Posted on by A. Long

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.

― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Sonnet 15

Posted on by A. Long

When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and check’d even by the selfsame sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
–William Shakespeare

Excerpt From The Seasons: Autumn

Posted on by A. Long

But see the fading many-colored woods,

shade deepening over shade,

the country round

imbrown;

a crowded umbrage,

dusk and dun,

of every hue from wan declining green

to soot dark.

The pale descending year, yet pleasing still,

a gentler mood inspires;

for now the leaf

incessant rustles from the mournful grove,

oft startling such as,

studious,

walk below,

and slowly circles through the waving air.

–James Thomson