In this sonnet, the speaker—who adopts the voice of the ancient poet Sappho—anticipates her own death. She appeals to the Muses, asking them to prepare wreaths of myrtle and laurel soaked in tears for her grave. There’s no desire for a carved marble monument; instead she wants holy silence, occasionally broken by a nightingale’s sad song that echoes her own laments. She imagines a lotus tree spreading its branches and dropping soft moisture onto a lily, which becomes a drooping emblem of a lover’s sorrow. Finally, she envisions Phaon, the man who rejected her love, visiting to shed pearls of pity on the heart he scorned to save. The whole poem carries a quiet, mournful beauty. The speaker’s tone is resigned and almost dreamlike—she finds a strange consolation in picturing this tender, sorrowful scene, where even her beloved’s cruelty will soften into grief.
Sonnet XXXIX: Prepare Your Wreaths — Summary
Prepare your wreaths, Aonian maids divine, To strew the tranquil bed where I shall sleep; In tears, the myrtle and the laurel steep, And let Erato's hand the trophies twine. No parian marble, there, with labour'd line, Shall bid the wand'ring lover stay to weep; There holy silence shall her vigils keep. Save, when the nightingale such woes as mine Shall sadly sing; as twilight's curtains spread, There shall the branching lotos widely wave, Sprinkling soft show'rs upon the lily's head, Sweet drooping emblem for a lover's grave! And there shall Phaon pearls of pity shed, To gem the vanquish'd heart he scorn'd to save!