An algorithm that detects a vengeful or broken heart?

I'm grateful that evaluation wasn’t handed over to a computer program as it was in another of my Edx courses, Ideas of the 20th Century. I’m assuming that a human reader will at some point need to put up with my scribbling thoughts. Computer evaluation was a profoundly emotionally jarring experience! I wasn’t aware that my essay would never be seen by human eyes, and only learned that it had been evaluated by an algorithm when I was notified of the grade (B+). I had spent several hours composing my thoughts, and it mattered whether or not at least a couple of other humans who were dealing with the same ideas read them. Instead, an algorithm had analyzed their form, grammar and average number of syllables used and determined that my essay was an okay bunch of digits. I stared at the grade, and became very angry, the meaning of my thoughts - -was reduced to meaninglessness. I longed for someone to comment that my ideas were stupid and I must be a bleeding heart liberal!

And so dear Reader, I present to, the hopefully human you, three sonnets that we can spend some time thinking about together. First, one by Shakespeare Sonnet 141. It’s famous for its bite and complexity. The critic Don Patterson thinks that it somehow proves that Shakespeare was conflicted by lust, and the sonnet expressed disgust for women. Patterson belongs to the devision of English majors who adventure far from the text and are perhaps paid by the word. I find that there is delight and insight at hearing this sonnet read well. It is banter, “You’re not a beauty but I love you anyway.” mixed perhaps with a bit of revenge for some pain caused. The imagery is complex and  best of all  even after many readings there remains the mystery, the question of does the reader really know what is going on in this relationship - Love play, or love hurt?

SONNET 141

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,

For they in thee a thousand errors note; 

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,

Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,

Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, 

Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited

To any sensual feast with thee alone:

But my five wits nor my five senses can

Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,

Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, 

Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:

Only my plague thus far I count my gain,

That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

The second sonnet by Edna St.Vincent Millay builds images for the reader’s eye slowly - rain, tide, snow, leaves - ending with a remarkably empty room. This sonnet is a simple, solitary meditation. The final couplet reveals an emotional moment shared by all of us at some point in life. This isn’t banter, revenge, or courtship; it’s love and loss well stated.

“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied”

TIME does not bring relief; you all have lied

    Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

 I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

     I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

    And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year’s bitter loving must remain

     Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!

There are a hundred places where I fear

    To go,—so with his memory they brim!

And entering with relief some quiet place

    Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, “There is no memory of him here!”

And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

Millay was quite capable of complexity, as the following sonnet illustrates. The poet is riding on a subway train, facing someone reading a newspaper. Millay builds the scene slowly with just a few strokes but the result is vivid. After reading Sonnet 141 we can’t be sure of the poet’s feelings for the woman he’s addressing. Is she unattractive, or is he playing with her. Is he hurt, shamed or seeking revenge? Millay’s sonnet leaves the reader with the same problem. Does the sonnet say, “ I wouldn't care if you dropped dead” or is she saying that at news of his death she would be so overwhelmed that she would have to wait until she was alone to allow herself to feel it. The sonnet has the odor of revenge but the embedded mystery of its meaning suggests the possibility of profound love.

“If I should learn, in some quite casual way”

IF I should learn, in some quite casual way,

    That you were gone, not to return again—

Read from the back-page of a paper, say,

    Held by a neighbor in a subway train,

How at the corner of this avenue

    And such a street (so are the papers filled)

A hurrying man—who happened to be you—

    At noon to-day had happened to be killed,

I should not cry aloud—I could not cry

    Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—

I should but watch the station lights rush by

    With a more careful interest on my face,

Or raise my eyes and read with greater care

Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.

Perhaps some day a computer algorithm will be written that can discern the subtle mysteries of the subtext of these sonnets and give them a B+. Perhaps unknown to me my MacBook is deeply in love with my cheating ChromeBook that has secretly been exchanging files with my iPad late at night. Can there be an algorithm that detects a vengeful or broken heart?