Weekly Interlinear Poem







This is the poem
for the week of March 9.
A new interlinear poem
is available each Monday.

Send me e-mail - robert15115@gmail.com.
Robert Jackson

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?"

-Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet


Romeo.

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
fair sun=Juliet
kill=vanquish

Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
her maid=servant of the moon goddess, Diana
Be not her maid, since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
vestal livery=garments of Vestal virgins, devotees of the goddess Vesta
sick and green - virgins were thought to be subject to green-sickness, in which the skin actually takes on a greenish cast

And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady. O, it is my love!
Juliet appears.
O, that she knew she were!
that=would that, if only
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses. I will answer it.
discourses=speaks
I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
having some business=needing to go somewhere else
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
in their spheres=in their places
till they return=until they come back from handling their business

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
were there=were in the sky in the place of two absent stars
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp. Her eyes in heaven
in heaven=in the sky
Would through the airy region stream so bright
airy region=the sky
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
that=if only
That I might touch that cheek!





Romeo.

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady. O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses. I will answer it.
I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp. Her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!