[My lady's presence makes the rose red] by Henry Constable

“My lady’s presence makes the roses red”. This poem begins with a lovesick speaker claiming the beauty that his lady processes is far greater than any product of Mother Nature’s. However he never speaks of the love they share or the memories of them together. Half way through the piece the truth is revealed:  there is no relationship but rather a yearning speaker that is never to be satisfied. I perceived that this poem was not about a couple that had fallen apart but rather one that would never be, because the lady simply does not notice him (or her, but to make my life easier I’m going to say him). But he notices her in everything he sees, smells, feels and even hears. “From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed”; he is so consumed by her that even the flowers remind him of her. Not to mention “The rain, wherewith she watereth the flowers, Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers” proves that though he sheds tears for this lady, she does nothing more than ignore them. She just mixes his salt water drops with the rest of the rain, making them nothing special, and uses them to her benefit (in this case watering the “flowers” or her own self-esteem).  

I really enjoyed this poem because of the fact that is followed an 8-6 pattern. The first eight lines present the piece as one of happy feelings, love and beauty. These lines were then followed by six more lines that completely switch the mental image to one of pain and suffering. As I read in the book, these two parts are called an octave and a sestet. The fact that Constable split the story in two, in an almost an ironic way, was more realistic to me and more enjoyable to read. It was like that twist at the end of a really good book. Constable’s poem followed the Petrarchan form with a rhyme scheme of abbaabba cdecde. However it did vary just slightly from the original rhyme scheme, following a patter like this: abbaabba cdcdee, but it was close enough in my opinion to be called a Petrarchan sonnet. And one last thing that really made an impression on me was the language. This poem was full of metaphors, personification, assonance and consonance (“all flowers from her their virtue take”). I was pleasantly surprised by this poem, but it does make me wonder: why do I enjoy poems about suffering so much?