Sonnets

A sonnet is a lyric poem invented by Da Lentino in thirteenth century Italy. It consists of 14 lines and follows a particular rhyme scheme. It is written in iambic pentameter. Sonnets can cover a range of issues but the subject of love is most addressed.

The pattern for the "Italian“ or Petrarchan sonnet breaks the content of the poem into two sections (not a physical break): an octave (eight lines) and a sestet (six lines). Often the octave will ask a question ("Why won't my loved one respond to me?") and the sestet attempts to answer it ("My loved one has other things in mind.") or the octave may pose a problem and the sestet offer a solution. Called a poetic shift, the break between the octave and the sestet may be signaled by a "volta," or giveaway word like "but" or "yet." Then you know that the tone of the sonnet is changing direction.

The octave invariably rhymes ABBA ABBA The octave invariably rhymes ABBA  ABBA. This is the easiest way to tell if you are reading an Italian sonnet. The sestet has variations. It may rhyme CDC   CDC or CCD   CCD or any number of combinations, even CD  CD  CD.

The Italian sonnet was popularized in England by Sir Thomas Wyatt who translated a number of Petrarch's sonnets into English. But English rhymes are harder to come by than Italian so the English soon developed a new rhyme scheme for the sonnet that would allow them to use more rhyming words within the fourteen lines. The "English" or "Shakespearean" sonnet breaks down into three quatrains and a couplet. The rhyme scheme is usually ABAB   CDCD   EFEF   GG. The meter is always iambic pentameter.

Is the following sonnet Italian or English?       When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts; who best   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed And post o'er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait."

Shakespeare Sonnet #29 When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Shakespeare Sonnet #116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

John Donne Sonnet #72 DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,  For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,  Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.  From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures bee,          Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,  And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and souls delivery.  Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,  And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,   And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,  And better then thy stroke; why swell'st thou then;  One short sleep past, wee wake eternally,  And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.  

Elizabeth Barrett Browning How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.  

Shakespeare Sonnet #128 Oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips. Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.

HOMEWORK Select or imagine an object, person, scene or event that expresses strong emotion. Write a lyric poem about it of at least 12 lines. You may write a regular lyric poem, or an elegy or sonnet, but no odes (you wrote those last year). Use rhyme, figurative language, and imagery. Remember a lyric poem shows the private thoughts and emotions of the speaker, but does not tell a story. It is about one single unified topic or theme. Type the poem and bring it to class tomorrow.