The Sonnet

Petrarchan/Italian ABBAABBACDCDCD Petarch: father of Humanism the human form is manifest of the divine individualism, emotionalism, hedonism 14th century Italy Considered one of the first modern poets Laura was his muse Petrarchan conceit: a metaphor comparing the beloved to the divine or great

Petrarch’s “Sonnet 159” In what bright realm, what sphere of radiant thought A Did Nature find the model whence she drew B That delicate dazzling image where we view B Here on this earth what she in heaven wrought? A What fountain-haunting nymph, what dryad, sought A In groves, such golden tresses ever threw B Upon the gust? What heart such virtues knew?— B Though her chief virtue with my death is frought. A TURN/VOLTA He looks in vain for heavenly beauty, he C Who never looked upon her perfect eyes, D The vivid blue orbs turning brilliantly – C He does not know how Love yields and denies; D He only knows, who knows how sweetly she C Can talk and laugh, the sweetness of her sighs. D

Shakespearean/English ABABCDCDEFEFGG Closing couplet usually plays with both ideas “closing” and/or “couple” Iambic pentameter 16th and 17th century England Humanistic elements More realistic, lasting love Anti-petrarchan conceits (“my mistress’s eyes are nothing like the sun”) Sonnet Sequence

Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 130” My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; A Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; B If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; A If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. B I have seen roses damask’d, red and white, C But no such roses see I in her cheeks; D And in some perfumes is there more delight C Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. D I love to hear her speak, yet will I know E That music hath a far more pleasing sound; F I grant that I never saw a goddess go; E My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. F TURN/VOLTA And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare G As any she belied with false compare. G

Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 30” When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.

Create an English Sonnet Write several lines (a quatrain?) of a sonnet. Try to emulate Shakespeare’s ideas and language. Write in iambic pentameter and use the rhyme scheme. See how difficult it is?