Sonnet 034 - XXXIV
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.

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Sonnet 037 - XXXVII
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despis'd,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am suffic'd,
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!

bot by @davidaugust

#sonnet #poem #Shakespeare

Sonnet 117 - CXVII
Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all,
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear-purchased right;
That I have hoisted sail to all the winds
Which should transport me farthest from your sight.
Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And on just proof surmise accumulate;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate;
Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.

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Sonnet 039 - XXXIX
O! how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
O absence! what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain.

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#sonnet #poem #Shakespeare

"The world has gone to hell, or so it seems,
and on all sides is found beset by woe;
and we, despite our clever new machines,
cannot prevent it from persisting so.
Whatever tool may grace a human hand
will soon be used in service of their greed:
and wealth, that thing which human beings demand,
be soon improved in place of others’ need..."

https://seanpatrick.phd/2026/05/03/sonnet-for-a-lesson/

#poem #poetry #sonnet #SonnetSunday

Sonnet 139 - CXXXIX
O! call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:
Use power with power, and slay me not by art,
Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy might
Is more than my o'erpressed defence can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

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Chubby (@kimmonismus)

Claude Sonnet 4.8이 Opus 4.7보다 기대에 부응하길 바란다는 내용으로, Anthropic의 차기 모델 업데이트에 대한 기대를 드러냅니다. 신규 모델 버전 출시 가능성을 시사하는 언급입니다.

https://x.com/kimmonismus/status/2050673775109177796

#anthropic #claude #sonnet #llm #model

Cluster

Il y a tant de questions
Posées en si peu de temps ;
Un oracle, c’est tentant,
Pour se bercer d’illusions.

La divinité ? Voyons :
Remplie de bons sentiments,
Ne demandant pas de sang ;
Bastet plutôt qu’Apollon.

Et nous voilà sous le charme,
Notre raison se désarme,
Manumission déchirée.

Fin de toute latitude,
Être à jamais prisonnier,
Piégé dans la solitude.

#sonnet
#poetry
#poésie
#photography
#photographie

Sonnet 126 - CXXVI
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:
Her audit (though delayed) answered must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.

bot by @davidaugust

#sonnet #poem #Shakespeare