Sonnets, music

A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion:
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.


Befaamd sonnet van William Shakespeare, maar oordeel zelf, het is me niet hierom te doen. Wel om het lied dat Rufus Wainwright ervan maakte, op zijn 6de album, All Days Are Nights...

Zoon van Kate McGarrigle, ik schreef al eerder over hem...


Of hoe je, via muziek, je klassieken kunt leren kennen...