Thursday, September 19, 2013

Sonnet II

II

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
They youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst  answer, 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.


((If you have any further questions, would like to make a suggestion for a future poem/topic of discussion, or would like a deeper analysis of this poem, please inform me by leaving a comment below. I will address any and all comments in the order they are received, as quickly as I can.))

Sonnet I

I
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decrease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's freshest ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

((If you have any further questions, would like to make a suggestion for a future poem/topic of discussion, or would like a deeper analysis of this poem, please inform me by leaving a comment below. I will address any and all comments in the order they are received, as quickly as I can.))

The Sonnet and Elizabethan Sonneteers

The Sonnet and Elizabethan Sonneteers
an excerpt from "The Yale Shakespeare, The Complete Works" 1993 ed.

"It was Petrarch (1307-1374) who made the sonnet the most popular form of the lyric during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Though sonnets had been written before him, notably by Dante, the vogue of Petrarch, overshadowing that of all other lyric poets ancient and modern, was carried far beyond 'this side idolatry.' His themes were love and beauty, a hopeless love thwarted by destiny and death. His followers and imitators were legion. Vagany, in his compendious bibliography of sixteenth-century French and Italian sonneteers, does not include them all, for no man has ever read them all or could survive if he made the attempt.

"Before the sonnet reached England, it came to France, where Ronsard and his contemporaries were deeply influenced by Italian poetry; and in Shakespeare's day it was largely through the French sonneteers that Petrarch affected English writers, though they made direct translations of Italian sonnets as well. The first English sonnets were written by Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542) and Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1518-1547), and were first published after their death in Tottel's Miscellany, 1557. As might be presumed, both these poets were confirmed admirers of Petrarch, and their sonnets showed it.

"The sonnet of Petrarch, commonly called the Italian sonnet, is a poem of fourteen lines divided into two parts of eight and six lines, the octave and the sestet. The octave was written abbaabba, while the sestet could have two or three rhymes, arranged in no fixed order save that the last two lines should not rhyme together. In the octave a thought, an emotion, a picture is completely presented and the verse sentence, so to speak, comes to an end. In the sestet, the explanation, the comment, the summing up of the whole matter is given. Wyatt attempted the Italian form, but found it too difficult  to write correctly, and his sonnets end in rhymed couplets. Surrey, more of a stylist, devised a new and simpler form for the sonnet - three quatrains with a concluding couplet, and with no attempt to preserve the division of the octave and sestet. As a simple trial will prove, it is much harder to write a sonnet in the Italian form than to compose three quatrains and a couplet; and as Elizabethans prized fluency, they preferred Surrey's form. In Shakespeare it reached its greatest beauty so that Surrey's form is now often called the 'Shakespearean' sonnet. It is interesting to notice that at times Shakespeare makes the break in the thought between the eighth and ninth lines that the Italian sonnet writers observed. This will be seen in 'When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,' No. 29, or better still, in several sonnets printed together with the sestet beginning invariably with 'O,' Nos. 21-23, 71, 72, 76.

"Apart from Shakespeare, the Elizabethan sonnet sequences most worthy of study are Sidney's Astrophel and Stella, 1591, Daniel's Delia, 1592, Drayton's Idea, 1594, and Spenser's Armoretti, 1595. To read them, or even their finest passages, but makes more apparent the supremacy of Shakespeare."

Friday, June 14, 2013

Announcement: Saturdays of Scrutiny

To get things flowing on this blog once more, I'll be attempting to infuse a bit of education here. I wonder, though.... perhaps opinion is a better word? Really, I just want to break down whatever wall it is that keeps this blog from becoming its own little forum of literary discussion.

I digress; I tend to have just a bit more free time on Saturdays, and as such I would like to use that time to provide my readers (few as there may be...) with a full rhetorical analysis of a work. I will, of course, continue taking requests as I mention at the end of each poetry post, but I would like to guarantee an analyzed work for you all to think about during your weekend.

Tomorrow will be my first Saturday of Scrutiny. Pretentious as the name sounds, keep in mind that I am more than willing to hear your thoughts and opinions on a work; I am well aware that mine is only one take on the meaning of whatever poem I post, and I love finding new ways to interpret a piece.

All that in mind, let's try this out and hopefully grow together as readers and poetry lovers. :)

Tears, Idle Tears

Tears, Idle Tears
Lord Alfred Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the under-world,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

((If you have any further questions, would like to make a suggestion for a future poem/topic of discussion, or would like an analysis of this poem to be done, please inform me by leaving a comment below. I will address any and all comments in the order they are received, as quickly as I can.))

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Back Again

I'm back, once more, my lovely readers. I have this terrible habit of popping in and out, posting only a poem or two before I disappear again. I am trying to rectify this, but life inevitably finds a means to get in the way of the things that I would like to do. I've taken the liberty of typing up a few extra poems, so I should be able to update consistently for at least a few days, even if I am unable to find the time to type up a piece for you all.

I hope you enjoy today's post, a work by Keats entitled On the Grasshopper and the Cricket. It's a lovely, little sonnet that shows us quite a nice look at nature and the beautiful music inherent in it.

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket
John Keats

The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's - he takes the lead
In summer luxury, - he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove where shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.

((If you have any further questions, would like to make a suggestion for a future poem/topic of discussion, or would like an analysis of this poem to be done, please inform me by leaving a comment below. I will address any and all comments in the order they are received, as quickly as I can.))