SONNET - 147 SUMMARY

 Sonnet No 147:

My love is as a fever longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed;
   For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
   Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

This Sonnet is written from the perspective of a poet who regards the love he holds for his mistress and lover as a sickness, and more specifically, as a fever. It lives on whatever will preserve the illness, in order to prop up my fickle desire. The sonnet details the internal battle the poet has between his reason (or head) and love he has for his mistress (his heart). The poet's reasoning has acted as doctor and treated his love, but then it left him because he wasn't following its instructions. As he realizes his love is detrimental to his health and stability, perhaps even fatal the poet's rationality attempts to put an end to the relationship. Eventually, however, the battle between the poet's reason and his love comes to an end. Unable to give up his lover, the poet gives up rationale and his love becomes consuming, sending him to the brink of madness. The poet's thoughts and speech are like a madman's, pointlessly expressing random untruths. The poet says that his mistress is beautiful radiant when she is actually as black as be and as dark as night.

Reference: shakespeare-sonnets.com