By Will, against my will seduced once more,
I read another bio of the Bard:
Soul of the Age* is full of Shakespeare lore,
Impeccably informed. I drop my guard.
The author weaves a web of well-wrought words.
I am enmeshed: so easily led to trust,
So weak my will, so generous the rewards.
What vows are proof against my lust?
If women were my sin, and not Will’s life,
By now I would a social outcast be,
Not fit for moral company, a caitiff
Wretch, condemned for incredulity.
But, Oh, forbidden pleasure never palls.
I wait for next week’s bio at the stalls.
I read another bio of the Bard:
Soul of the Age* is full of Shakespeare lore,
Impeccably informed. I drop my guard.
The author weaves a web of well-wrought words.
I am enmeshed: so easily led to trust,
So weak my will, so generous the rewards.
What vows are proof against my lust?
If women were my sin, and not Will’s life,
By now I would a social outcast be,
Not fit for moral company, a caitiff
Wretch, condemned for incredulity.
But, Oh, forbidden pleasure never palls.
I wait for next week’s bio at the stalls.
*Soul of the Age, Jonathan Bate Random House, 2009
