My love, how deep thy beauty stirs affection;
It comes not from a coat of painted gloss,
But rather springs from perfect imperfection
Unaffected as knolls of fitful moss:
The subtle marks that gently speck thy face,
And kindred moles that frame thy honest form
Bespeak a character with such a grace
That a once-frigid soul might now feel warm.
I wish my features could return in kind
The compound natures that shape thy beauty,
But I am simple gloss of simple mind,
A character bound by terms of duty.
So, through this rigid verse I vainly strive
To match thy heart, and make my love alive. - Amanda Riddell, c. 2015-2016.
Explainer: well, why did I bother to write a correct sonnet? Well, as often with me, it was to impress people. I wrote an essay analysing one of the arias from The Magic Flute (Tamino's aria). I didn't recognise the poetic form, but Peter Walls told me that it was a sonnet. Then there was the whole 'write a character that speaks blank verse' idea that I had to make Reginald seem believable. My brother kept writing Thor-esque dialogue, but the metrical feet made that much more interesting. As for why it was spoken instead of sung: that was an instinctual decision -- I felt that it was best served by being spoken.