Shakespeare's Sonnets

Oh, the horror of it all!! On Thursday evening I had my first, and hopefully my last, exposure to Shakespeare's Sonnets. Thankfully, I didn't actually have to read them; Mr. K had an audio recording of someone reading them while we followed along on printed copies.

This is for those of you who have never read them, just in case your curiousity is killing you:

Sonnet VI.

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee;
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

Isn't it perfectly awful?? How can anyone appreciate this stuff?? It must take a really gifted, finely-cultured person to appreciate Shakespeare. Unfortunately, not my forte.

According to Mr. K, a sonnet must consist of 14 lines, which all 154 sonnets do except one. And that one, disappointingly, has 15 lines. (tsk, tsk) Can anyone tell me exactly what this sonnet means??

After lecturing us about not using contractions in our essays, he makes us read stuff that has more contractions than a birthing center!

Painfully enduring...