Link to poetry.org.
Part I - Overview of Metaphysical Poetry & John Donne
John Donne was born in 1572 in London, England. He is known as the founder of the Metaphysical Poets, a term created by Samuel Johnson, an eighteenth-century English essayist, poet, and philosopher. His wife, aged thirty-three, died in 1617 shortly after giving birth to their twelfth child, a stillborn. The Holy Sonnets are also attributed to this phase of his life.
The term "metaphysical poetry" is used to describe a certain type of 17th century poetry. The term was originally intended to be derogatory; Dryden, who said Donne "affects the metaphysics," was criticizing Donne for being too arcane. Samuel Johnson later used the term "metaphysical poetry" to describe the specific poetic method used by poets like Donne.
Metaphysical poets are generally in rebellion against the highly conventional imagery of the Elizabethan lyric. The poems tend to be intellectually complex, and (according to the Holman Handbook), "express honestly, if unconventionally, the poet's sense of the complexities and contradictions of life." The verse often sounds rough in comparison to the smooth conventions of other poets; Ben Jonson once said that John Donne "deserved hanging" for the way he ran roughshod over conventional rhythms. The result is that these poems often lack lyric smoothness, but they instead use a rugged irregular movement that seems to suit the content of the poems.
For an example of metaphysical rebellion against lyrical convention, one can look at Donne's Holly Sonnet VI, below.
"Holy Sonnet VI"
by John Donne, 1610
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 be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's deliverie.
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.
The poem personifies death through an extended metaphor. It speaks to death as if poking fun at its history of being known as “mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so” according to the narrator. The speaker even goes so far as to say “nor canst thou kill me.” This ends the first stanza and is much more interesting and off putting than “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” or Let me not to the marriage of true minds” by Shakespeare.
That the punctuation is just as vital to the meaning of the work. In addition to challenging the conventions of rhythm, the metaphysical poets also challenged conventional imagery. Their tool for doing this was the metaphysical conceit. A conceit is a poetic idea, usually a metaphor. There can be conventional ideas, where there are expected metaphors: Petrarchan conceits imitate the metaphors used by the Italian poet Petrarch. Metaphysical conceits are noteworthy specifically for their lack of conventionality. In general, the metaphysical conceit will use some sort of shocking or unusual comparison as the basis for the metaphor. When it works, a metaphysical conceit has a startling appropriateness that makes us look at something in an entirely new way.
In the sonnet above, he last line is what does it for me, though and it was utilized brilliantly in Maraget Edison’s Wit.
Some editions of the text present the last line as follows:
And Death shall be no more; Death thou shalt die!
In the Gardner edition, it is presented as follows:
And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.
As stated in Edison’s play “Nothing but a breath. A comma separates life from eternal life.” Therefore, the metaphysical conceit of the sonnet is that when you die you live forever.
"Holy Sonnet IV"
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This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile, and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they're bred and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
Part II - Modern Sonnets
"Sonnet XLIII"
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 be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's deliverie.
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.
The poem personifies death through an extended metaphor. It speaks to death as if poking fun at its history of being known as “mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so” according to the narrator. The speaker even goes so far as to say “nor canst thou kill me.” This ends the first stanza and is much more interesting and off putting than “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” or Let me not to the marriage of true minds” by Shakespeare.
That the punctuation is just as vital to the meaning of the work. In addition to challenging the conventions of rhythm, the metaphysical poets also challenged conventional imagery. Their tool for doing this was the metaphysical conceit. A conceit is a poetic idea, usually a metaphor. There can be conventional ideas, where there are expected metaphors: Petrarchan conceits imitate the metaphors used by the Italian poet Petrarch. Metaphysical conceits are noteworthy specifically for their lack of conventionality. In general, the metaphysical conceit will use some sort of shocking or unusual comparison as the basis for the metaphor. When it works, a metaphysical conceit has a startling appropriateness that makes us look at something in an entirely new way.
In the sonnet above, he last line is what does it for me, though and it was utilized brilliantly in Maraget Edison’s Wit.
Some editions of the text present the last line as follows:
And Death shall be no more; Death thou shalt die!
In the Gardner edition, it is presented as follows:
And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.
As stated in Edison’s play “Nothing but a breath. A comma separates life from eternal life.” Therefore, the metaphysical conceit of the sonnet is that when you die you live forever.
"Holy Sonnet IV"
by John Donne, 1610
If poysonous minerals, and if that tree,
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, Alas ! why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And, mercy being easie, and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why threatens hee?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee?
O God, Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sinnes blacke memorie.
That thou remember them, some claime as debt,
I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget.
"Holy Sonnet X"
If poysonous minerals, and if that tree,
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, Alas ! why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And, mercy being easie, and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why threatens hee?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee?
O God, Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sinnes blacke memorie.
That thou remember them, some claime as debt,
I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget.
"Holy Sonnet X"
by John Donne, 1610
My pilgrimage's last mile, and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they're bred and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
Part II - Modern Sonnets
"Sonnet XLIII"
by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1956
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
"Florida Doll Sonnet"
by Denise Duhamel, 1961
I love Fresh Market but always feel underdressed
squeezing overpriced limes. Louis Vuitton,
Gucci, Fiorucci, and all the ancient East Coast girls
with their scarecrow limbs and Joker grins.
Their silver fox husbands, rosy from tanning beds,
steady their ladies who shuffle along in Miu Miu’s
(not muumuus) and make me hide behind towers
of handmade soaps and white pistachios. Who
knew I’d still feel like the high school fat girl
some thirty-odd years later? My Birkenstocks
and my propensity for fig newtons? Still, whenever
I’m face to face with a face that is no more real
than a doll’s, I try to love my crinkles, my saggy
chin skin. My body organic, with no preservatives.
"The Harlem Dancer"
by Denise Duhamel, 1961
I love Fresh Market but always feel underdressed
squeezing overpriced limes. Louis Vuitton,
Gucci, Fiorucci, and all the ancient East Coast girls
with their scarecrow limbs and Joker grins.
Their silver fox husbands, rosy from tanning beds,
steady their ladies who shuffle along in Miu Miu’s
(not muumuus) and make me hide behind towers
of handmade soaps and white pistachios. Who
knew I’d still feel like the high school fat girl
some thirty-odd years later? My Birkenstocks
and my propensity for fig newtons? Still, whenever
I’m face to face with a face that is no more real
than a doll’s, I try to love my crinkles, my saggy
chin skin. My body organic, with no preservatives.
"The Harlem Dancer"
by Claude McKay, 1922
Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.
"Ever"
"Ever"
by Meghan O'Rourke, 2015
Never, never, never, never, never.
—King Lear
Even now I can’t grasp “nothing” or “never.”
They’re unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.
Never? Never ever again to see you?
An error, I aver. You’re never nothing,
because nothing’s not a thing.
I know death is absolute, forever,
the guillotine—gutting—never to which we never say goodbye.
But even as I think “forever” it goes “ever”
and “ever” and “ever.” Ever after.
I’m a thing that keeps on thinking. So I never see you
is not a thing or think my mouth can ever. Aver:
You’re not “nothing.” But neither are you something.
Will I ever really get never?
You’re gone. Nothing, never—ever.
"Superheroes as 2004 Volkswagen Passat: A Double Sonnet"
by Bruce Covey, 2012
The Invisible Woman is the windshield.
Never, never, never, never, never.
—King Lear
Even now I can’t grasp “nothing” or “never.”
They’re unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.
Never? Never ever again to see you?
An error, I aver. You’re never nothing,
because nothing’s not a thing.
I know death is absolute, forever,
the guillotine—gutting—never to which we never say goodbye.
But even as I think “forever” it goes “ever”
and “ever” and “ever.” Ever after.
I’m a thing that keeps on thinking. So I never see you
is not a thing or think my mouth can ever. Aver:
You’re not “nothing.” But neither are you something.
Will I ever really get never?
You’re gone. Nothing, never—ever.
"Superheroes as 2004 Volkswagen Passat: A Double Sonnet"
by Bruce Covey, 2012
The Invisible Woman is the windshield.
Mr. Fantastic is the wiper fluid.
The Thing is the tire.
The Human Torch is the spark plug.
Spiderman is the antenna.
Storm is the ignition coil.
Rogue is the crank shaft.
The Punisher is the exhaust pipe.
Captain America is the hub cap.
Quicksilver is the oil.
Rogue is the gasoline.
Psylocke is the catalytic converter.
The Hulk is the cylinder block.
She Hulk is the mount.
Mantis is the manifold.
Ms. Marvel is the muffler.
The Scarlet Witch is the instrument panel.
Iceman is the cooling system.
Wolverine is the hood.
Colossus is the camshaft.
Banshee is the horn.
Polaris is the voltage regulator.
Silver Surfer is the rearview mirror.
Powerman is the bearing.
Phoenix is the powertrain.
Emma Frost is the hinge pillar.
The Vision is the fuse box.
Black Widow is the brake.
"Sonnet XLIII"
ReplyDeleteby Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1956
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
I would say that this poem speaks of love, and what the loss of that love may do to an individual. She speaks in the beginning of, “what lips [her] lips have kissed,”. However, she has since, “forgotten,”. No longer does she have anyone to love or to hold; she only has the ghosts and the empty, silent trees at night. I think that the final line of the poem is the most powerful, as she states how she once had experienced love, though, “that in [her] sings no more,”. Like the other sonnets we have read, this poem is written in iambic pentameter, and it is split into two stanzas. I would say that there is a clear shift when she says, “Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,”. Not only is there a clear shift in tone, but she also begins to discuss her life at the present, as opposed to reminiscing on her past. I would also say that this sonnet is certainly more somber than many of Shakespeare’s, though it does not contain as much of the spiritual aspect as many of John Donne's do.
think that you interpret the poem really well and I completely agree, she speaks of love and what the loss of that may do to an individual. This sonnet is definitely a break from that of Shakespeare and Donne.
DeleteAt the Tomb of Napoleon Before the Elections in America—November 1912
ReplyDeleteBy Alan Seeger
I stood beside his sepulchre whose fame,
Hurled over Europe once on bolt and blast,
Now glows far off as storm-clouds overpast
Glow in the sunset flushed with glorious flame.
Has nature marred his mould? Can Art acclaim
No hero now, no man with whom men side
As with their hearts’ high needs personified?
There are will say, One such our lips could name;
Columbia gave him birth. Him Genius most
Gifted to rule. Against the world’s great man
Lift their low calumny and sneering cries
The Pharisaïc multitude, the host
of piddling slanderers whose little eyes
Know not what greatness is and never can.
Metaphysical poetry tends to emphasize life’s complexities rather than its simplicities. In this sonnet, the poet contrasts the military leader of France, Napoleon, with contemporary politicians in the United States. However, he chooses to praise the “hero” Napoleon for his “greatness,” and discount the importance of the “piddling slanderers” in a democratic election. As metaphysical poets, Seeger "expresses honestly, if unconventionally, [his] sense of the complexities and contradictions of life." This involves the use of irony, for it is expected that the poet would glorify democracy and speak ill of the rule of a dictator. However, the metaphysical “conceit” of the sonnet is that politicians are no less manipulative and power hungry than Napoleon in his pursuit of control of Europe. Democracy has complexities and underlying power structures that do not necessarily produce better leaders. Seeger also alludes to the Bible in his mention of the Pharasiac multitude. The Pharisees were Jewish religious leaders with hippocratic tendencies. Seeger’s comparison of politicians to Pharisees works the paradox of elective officials being less moral than Napoleon, a tyrannical leader. He accuses them of “calumny,” or slander, which is fully expanded on in the final line, that they “Know not what greatness is and never can.” It is implied that Napoleon knows “greatness,” and that Americans should look to him as a historical example of leadership.
"Holy Sonnet IV"
ReplyDeleteby John Donne, 1610
If poysonous minerals, and if that tree,
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, Alas ! why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And, mercy being easie, and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why threatens hee?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee?
O God, Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sinnes blacke memorie.
That thou remember them, some claime as debt,
I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget.
This sonnet encapsulates Donne’s and mankind’s complex relationship with God. It is a question to God, and an urgent one repeated in each quatrain, on the nature of mankind’s sin. Donne makes the comparison of the actions of animals and humans, the only thing separating an animal from sin is, “intent or reason, born in me,” or the human consciousness. This calls him to question God’s mercy, coupled with his finality over the matter of sin. A paradox of humankind's own existence appears in the lines, “But who am I, that dare dispute with thee? O God, Oh! of thine only worthy blood,” as Donne affirms his place as a creation of God’s own blood who is worthy to question him. A sense of entitlement appears in this quatrain and the couplet afterward and the final line, “I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget” almost reads as if Donne believes it would be a mercy to God if he could forget all of the suffering contained in Donne’s own memory, in the anguish over sin that he now asks God to remember. The sonnet questions God and certain contradictions seen in the belief system surrounding sin in a very honest and unashamed way. There is an urgency in the many questions asked, left unanswered but desperate all the same for a reply, a reaction from God, to the boldness of the sonnet’s lines. This reads differently from the English sonnet, as if less emphasis is put on the rhymes so the message is not lost. The darker themes of this sonnet are not shadowed by tragedy like a Shakespearean sonnet might be and there is no finality to the sonnet, as if it is a question shouted out to space, receiving no reply.
Sonnet to Winter
ReplyDeleteEmily Chubbuck Judson
Thy brow is girt, thy robe with gems inwove;
And palaces of frost-work, on the eye,
Flash out, and gleam in every gorgeous dye,
The pencil, dipped in glorious things above,
Can bring to earth. Oh, thou art passing fair!
But cold and cheerless as the heart of death,
Without one warm, free pulse, one softening breath,
One soothing whisper for the ear of Care.
Fortune too has her Winter. In the Spring,
We watch the bud of promise; and the flower
Looks out upon us at the Summer hour;
And Autumn days the blessed harvest bring;
Then comes the reign of jewels rare, and gold,
When brows flash light, but hearts grow strangely cold.
This sonnet is clearly Shakespearean, but has some aspects of more modern poetry interwoven that create a pleasant but not bland piece of poetry. Structurally, this poem closely adheres to shakespearean format with the rhyme scheme and the turn made exactly after the second quatrain. The imagery and flow are likewise aesthetic and safe, making it an easy poem to enjoy. However, this poem does play around slightly with its given structure. The fourth line is of particular interest as it drops the extended metaphor of winter as a person and is punctuated by the rough pairing of it’s last word, above, with inwove, in the first line of the poem. This line, “The pencil, dipped in glorious things above,” seems to portray winter as artificial, which is echoed in later lines by describing it as cold and unfeeling. The linkage of the second half of the poem with semicolons as the author runs through the seasons and their virtues, leading up to winter, also breaks strict shakespearean form for a more modern approach that builds anticipation. The content of the poem makes a more pronounced deviation by not offering a conclusion on winter, but takes a more observational tone to a cold and beautiful time of year. However, the poem offers no paradoxical conceit and so it falls nicely into the category of a shakespearean sonnet, or more accurately, a mid 1800s recreation of a shakespearean sonnet that displayed a few hints of a more modern twist.
"Superheroes as 2004 Volkswagen Passat: A Double Sonnet"
ReplyDeleteby Bruce Covey, 2012
The Invisible Woman is the windshield.
Mr. Fantastic is the wiper fluid.
The Thing is the tire.
The Human Torch is the spark plug.
Spiderman is the antenna.
Storm is the ignition coil. Rogue is the crank shaft.
The Punisher is the exhaust pipe.
Captain America is the hub cap.
Quicksilver is the oil.
Rogue is the gasoline.
Psylocke is the catalytic converter.
The Hulk is the cylinder block.
She Hulk is the mount.
Mantis is the manifold.
Ms. Marvel is the muffler.
The Scarlet Witch is the instrument panel.
Iceman is the cooling system.
Wolverine is the hood.
Colossus is the camshaft.
Banshee is the horn.
Polaris is the voltage regulator.
Silver Surfer is the rearview mirror.
Powerman is the bearing.
Phoenix is the powertrain.
Emma Frost is the hinge pillar.
The Vision is the fuse box.
Black Widow is the brake.
"Superheroes as 2004 Volkswagen Passat: A Double Sonnet,” which likens a cadre of Superheroes to an old Volkswagon Passat, cuts these larger than life beings down to size. Then, this Sonnet goes even further by minimizing each character to mere parts of an old Volkswagon Passat. For anyone who is a comic book fan, Covey does a fairly good job of extracting a key feature or iconic characteristic of the hero being flayed and attaching that trait to a corresponding automobile part. For example, “Captain America is the hub cap(,)” is a very clever comparisons. At first glance the juxtaposition of the great and mighty against a “horn” or “voltage regulator” seems ironically demeaning. However, this poem is not just a metaphysical poem, as “arcane” as Donne’s work; it is also a modern love sonnet. The metaphysical poetry of Donne’s age was criticized for being obscure, and this sonnet fits that definition because its understanding and appreciation requires very specific knowledge. Covey’s piece is structured clumsily with choppy sentiment and no rhyming scheme, which is a hallmark of metaphysical poetry. However, like the sonnets of Shakespeare, the depth of knowledge and feeling needed to pay such homage to these Superheroes also makes this poem an offbeat, but spectacularly unique love sonnet.
I like your review of this sonnet. I didn't actually understand most of the comparisons before but going back now and reading it, it makes sense that certain parts match certain heroes, and you are right that a sonnet like this still takes a lot of care to understand, even if it doesn't initially appear as complex as something by Donne or Shakespeare
DeleteApplauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
ReplyDeleteAnd watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.
The poem “The Harlem Dancer” by Claude McKay, despite being written in the 20th century, uses the same format as the English Sonnets that were written by Shakespeare. The poem is divided into three quatrains (abab, cdcd, efef) followed by one couplet (gg). Additionally, the poem is written in iambic pentameter form, a form that is used in all of the English sonnets. “The Harlem Dancer,” despite being written in a similar style to the English Sonnets, differs quite greatly from them in terms of the subject matter. Many English Sonnets, such as “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” by Shakespeare, speak of falling in love, while this sonnet is rather melancholy as it describes the life of a prostitute. While traditional English Sonnets speak of true love, this sonnet is devoid of any love, and there is only lust and sadness felt between the narrator and the prostitute. Initially, it appears that she is happy as she entices the group of boys watching her. The major turning point of the poem is marked by the narrator’s observation of “her falsely-smiling face” that reveals that she is unhappy, despite the fact that she appears to be happy and carefree at a moment’s glance. I think that McKay’s usage of poetic devices that are typically found in English Sonnets to be interesting since comparatively, it is a much more modern poem, but the author chose to use a more classic style to the poem.
“Impression du Voyage”
ReplyDeleteBy Oscar Wilde, 1854 - 1900
The sea was sapphire coloured, and the sky
Burned like a heated opal through air,
We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing fair
For the blue lands that to the eastward lie.
From the steep prow I marked with quickening eye
Zakynthos, every olive grove and creek,
Ithaca’s cliff, Lycaon’s snowy peak,
And all the flower-strewn hills of Arcady.
The flapping of the sail against the mast,
The ripple of the water on the side,
The ripple of girls’ laughter at the stern,
The only sounds:—when ’gan the West to burn,
And a red sun upon the seas to ride,
I stood upon the soil of Greece at last!
Wilde’s sonnet, “Impression du Voyage” is very similar to Donne’s "Holy Sonnet VI" we read in class today. Although the subject matter may differ, they both start with the rhyme scheme ABBA, where the first and fourth lines rhyme with each other and the second and third rhyme with each other. I really liked the imagery Wilde used in this sonnet. He mentions that “The sea was sapphire coloured” and “the sky Burned like a heated opal through air”. This poem is clearly illustrating a scene of traveling, in this case, home to Greece. The descriptive imagery the author uses allows the reader to feel the calm tone of the poem of a joyous return. This is consistent with Wilde’s admiration of beautiful things, in this case the world around him rather than his usual focus on art. His coming home is portrayed through his word choice which includes positive associations to make his readers feel calm and happy. This strays from the classic themes of love and death which is why I picked it. It is a really nice sonnet that does not necessarily have the feel of other sonnets written, especially around this time period.
I really like your comparison between this sonnet and the one we read in class; I think it rings very true. While they may speak of different things, the composition of the two is essentially one in the same.
DeleteI agree that this sonnet feels different than others. While certain sonnets might use a beautiful scene of nature to convey a deeper message, this one seems to just be a nice description of the setting.
Delete
ReplyDelete“The courage that my mother had”
By Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892 - 1950
The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.
Oh, if instead she’d left to me
The thing she took into the grave!—
That courage like a rock, which she
Has no more need of, and I have.
While reading this poem for the first time, I was struck by how concise yet meaningful it is. I read the title and expected it to be an endearing story of a mother and her child, the child grateful for the strength and courage that her mom had when she was alive. I was both accurate and incorrect in my assumption, something that intrigued me while reading. The poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay, uses a golden brooch as a way of showing both the care and sorrow that a child feels towards her mother. While she says, “I have no thing I treasure more”, she follows the line by saying, “Yet, it is something I could spare.” One of the major similarities I have noticed between the sonnets we have analyzed so far in class is that there is often a turning point in the story. For this poem in particular, I think the turning point occurs between these two lines. At first we see the deep connection between the mother and child, and then the poet reveals how the child is yearning for more. The final stanza says, “Oh, if instead she’d left to me/The thing she took into the grave!—/That courage like a rock, which she/Has no more need of, and I have.” Although the speaker is grateful for the brooch because it reminds her of her mother, she wants something intangible that followed her mom to the grave, courage. I found the clash between materialistic possessions and intangible values to be very meaningful in this poem.
I really liked your analysis of this sonnet. I thought the same thing when I read the title.
Delete"Superheroes as 2004 Volkswagen Passat: A Double Sonnet"
ReplyDeleteby Bruce Covey, 2012
The Invisible Woman is the windshield.
Mr. Fantastic is the wiper fluid.
The Thing is the tire.
The Human Torch is the spark plug.
Spiderman is the antenna.
Storm is the ignition coil. Rogue is the crank shaft.
The Punisher is the exhaust pipe.
Captain America is the hub cap.
Quicksilver is the oil.
Rogue is the gasoline.
Psylocke is the catalytic converter.
The Hulk is the cylinder block.
She Hulk is the mount.
Mantis is the manifold.
Ms. Marvel is the muffler.
The Scarlet Witch is the instrument panel.
Iceman is the cooling system.
Wolverine is the hood.
Colossus is the camshaft.
Banshee is the horn.
Polaris is the voltage regulator.
Silver Surfer is the rearview mirror.
Powerman is the bearing.
Phoenix is the powertrain.
Emma Frost is the hinge pillar.
The Vision is the fuse box.
Black Widow is the brake.
I personally liked this poem as it served a simplistic surface without much attributed meaning. It touched largely upon the ideas of aestheticism in that regard as the author evidently was not conforming to meet some ideal and imitate life, but merely express for beauty. I may be wrong, but I didn't find any common rhyme scheme either as no structured line endings repeated traditional ABBA or similar pattern. Similarly, the lines did not follow any standard of speech like iambic pentameter as the amount of consonants varied between all lines greatly. I thought ultimately that this was interesting as the traditionally defining aspects of metaphysical sonnets were largely played with and changed around.
Grief
ReplyDeleteElizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806 - 1861
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless—
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air,
Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blenching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death;
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe,
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath!
Touch it! the marble eyelids are not wet—
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
The pentameter of this poem followed ABBAABBA CCDCCD, which is very different from most other poem styles that we’ve read. Petrarchan poetry, for example, is more ‘beautiful’ to read due to a smoother rhyme scheme and flowing of words altogether. Though this may be true, I really liked this metaphysical poem for the uncommon idea Browning presented. Oftentimes in poetry, grief is described as constant unbearable pain felt by the writer. However, in this poem, Browning insists that only those in denial (“incredulous of despair”) feel angered and ‘shriek to God’ of their misfortunes. According to Browning, this is not true grief. Grief only begins once someone has fully accepted what has happened to them, and understands the futility of wishing to believe otherwise. Grief, to Browning, is everlasting hopelessness, which is much drearier than most other representations of it in literature. True grief does not even offer anger or sadness as a release of emotion. True grief is indefinite emptiness. Presenting the duality of a personified statue and dehumanized person represents how deeply and irreversibly Browning believes grief affects people. Though this metaphysical style of poetry is less aesthetically pleasing than others read prior, it represents a riveting take on humanity.
I like how the sonnet you chose has a different rhyme scheme from most that we have read thus far. You made some really great points about how the author showcases how only those individuals truly in denial experience such grievances, while those who have finally accepted whatever they have gone through experience true, actual grief.
DeleteGrief- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
ReplyDeleteI tell you, hopeless grief is passionless—
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air,
Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blenching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death;
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe,
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath!
Touch it! the marble eyelids are not wet—
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
Grief expressed in silence is the only true grief. Men who make fools of themselves by expressing their feelings in loud, disruptive manners aren’t accepting anything, they are just doing what they think is right. Silence is the purest form of grief because death is silent, “Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death.” The beginning of the Sonnet has a rhyme scheme of ABBA, which is where Browning is criticizing this form of grief, calling it “hopeless” and “passionless”, giving it no meaning to the dead they are supposedly grieving. There is a switch in the rhyme scheme once Browning explains the “correct” way of grieving, comparing it to that of a “monumental statue”. The pattern is CDE, which is similar to that of a Petrarchan rhyme scheme that begins with ABBA and then breaks away from that into CDCD after the focal shift. Browning states that a deep-hearted man should allow their grief to rest peacefully within “in everlasting watch and moveless woe.” One’s grief should die when they do. People should never stop grieving the dead, but rather learn how to live with it. She says that “if they could weep, it could arise and grow” but that isn’t possible since grieving never goes away. That is why it is pointless to try and angrily cry it away.
Hey Delia! I really like your take on this poem. Even though we read the same poem, the importance that Browning expressed about silence in regards to grieving never hit me until reading your analysis. This also helps understand the symbolism of a statue being unable to cry, and express grief.
Delete"Florida Doll Sonnet"
ReplyDeleteby Denise Duhamel, 1961
I love Fresh Market but always feel underdressed
squeezing overpriced limes. Louis Vuitton,
Gucci, Fiorucci, and all the ancient East Coast girls
with their scarecrow limbs and Joker grins.
Their silver fox husbands, rosy from tanning beds,
steady their ladies who shuffle along in Miu Miu’s
(not muumuus) and make me hide behind towers
of handmade soaps and white pistachios. Who
knew I’d still feel like the high school fat girl
some thirty-odd years later? My Birkenstocks
and my propensity for fig newtons? Still, whenever
I’m face to face with a face that is no more real
than a doll’s, I try to love my crinkles, my saggy
chin skin. My body organic, with no preservatives.
“Florida Doll Sonnet” is not a typical sonnet for the fact that it does not have a specific rhyme scheme, and it does not follow a common theme like love or nature that is often seen in sonnets. I was drawn to this piece for that exact reason. I thought that the author, Duhamel, did a nice job incorporating humor and reality into her phrases. It comes from a place that is very real and true for the author, and as the reader that comes across as humor because we don’t know how to process that reality in any other way. I think it is very interesting that Denise Duhamel understands this about the readers, and uses it in her sonnet to create more conversation. I was also drawn to the fact that there is no rhyme scheme. I know that not every single sonnet has to follow a specific set of guidelines, but I like how she was more focused on telling the story and expressing her feelings, rather than making all of the words sound good together. Even though this sonnet was written in 1961, I feel like someone could have written something exactly like it today, and it still would have made perfect sense. Within the modern sonnets, there is still a time gap, but this one bridges that gap and that is why it is still a successful sonnet today.
You did a very good job analyzing this poem. I liked how you mentioned how it bridges the gap between older sonnets and modern sonnets.
Delete“Nature”
ReplyDeleteBY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what we know.
This sonnet embraces a relationship with a mother and son; Later using this relationship and the son’s sleep time as a metaphor for death. The sonnet first begins with a scenario of a mother trying to put a reluctant son to bed. He stares at his “broken playthings on the floor” wondering if he would like the new ones that he was promised by his mother. There is a shift in line 9 suddenly talking about how “Nature deals with us, and takes away” which represents the mother taking away the toys to replace them with “others in their stead”. The toys that are being taken away portrays our “playthings”, or our pleasures in life, being seized. The mood is shifting as it seems to be a forceful role that Nature takes on, though we are “reluctant to be led” like the child, we are whisked away from life abruptly. As Longfellow closes the sonnet with no uncertainty of “how far the unknown transcends the what we know”. It is a lot like a contrast of “Holy Sonnet VI” by John Donne; Longfellow’s idea of death is an uncertainty of what lies beyond death, whether that be eternal life or nothingness. It’s a very agnostic approach, which is evident through whether we should be willing to fully accept death confidently.
"Florida Doll Sonnet"
ReplyDeleteby Denise Duhamel, 1961
I love Fresh Market but always feel underdressed
squeezing overpriced limes. Louis Vuitton,
Gucci, Fiorucci, and all the ancient East Coast girls
with their scarecrow limbs and Joker grins.
Their silver fox husbands, rosy from tanning beds,
steady their ladies who shuffle along in Miu Miu’s
(not muumuus) and make me hide behind towers
of handmade soaps and white pistachios. Who
knew I’d still feel like the high school fat girl
some thirty-odd years later? My Birkenstocks
and my propensity for fig newtons? Still, whenever
I’m face to face with a face that is no more real
than a doll’s, I try to love my crinkles, my saggy
chin skin. My body organic, with no preservatives.
I absolutely loved this sonnet by Denise Duhamel. It was just so real and it was brutally honest about how people can feel about themselves in society. The author feels out of place at the market surrounded by individuals who care too much about their image and status in society. It was relatable because it is so easy to compare yourself to those around you and it happens all the time. I think that it also sends a great message, being the most authentic version of yourself is just what you should do. The ending lines “I try to love my crinkles, my saggy/ chin skin. My body organic, with no preservatives”. She accepts herself for who she is and doesn’t feel a strong desire to hide herself behind things like spray tans, expensive clothes and heaps of makeup. I think that the theme presented in the sonnet is so much different than the whimsical sonnets of Shakespeare that glorify love and nature, as beautiful as those sonnets are they are not as down to earth and relatable as this modern sonnet. This sonnet is also different from the traditional English sonnets because it does not follow a rhyme scheme. This sonnet would definitely lean more towards the metaphysical category because of the honesty it expresses about accepting yourself.
- Anna Higgins
DeleteI too like this sonnet, and I think the message is one that a lot of people can relate to today.
DeleteThe Harlem Dancer"
ReplyDeleteby Claude McKay, 1922
Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.
Claude McKay’s The Harlem Dancer is a perfect example of poetry that creates incredibly vivid imagery. This poem follows the form of the traditional Shakespearian sonnet, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-c-d-c-d-e-f-e-f-g-g. The poem starts quite abruptly, setting up the scene and describing the characters. We realize right away that the scene is set in a darker, more fun atmosphere considering it is full of “youths” and “young prostitutes.” (line 1) Their laughter makes them seem very carefree and happy.
“The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her with their eager, passionate gaze”
These two lines I feel, depict the raw essence of this poem. It shows how the audience objectifies this ‘soulful’ and ‘elegant’ prostitute. Words such as “devoured” show how the audience sees her as a piece of meat, devouring her in unison with their sexual appetite. The description of “wine-flushed boys” give the crowd a rowdy persona, making the people seem inferior in comparison to the elegant and poised dancer.
The last two lines are in essence the most important of this poem. They tie together all the contrasting imagery of the poem, and express it in two lines. The rhyme scheme for these two lines is different from the rest of the poem, also adding to its separation and importance. It depicts how McKay sees this dancer differently than the rest of the crowd, for he notices her “falsely-smiling face”, knowing that she “her self was not in that strange place”.
"Florida Doll Sonnet"
ReplyDeleteby Denise Duhamel, 1961
I love Fresh Market but always feel underdressed
squeezing overpriced limes. Louis Vuitton,
Gucci, Fiorucci, and all the ancient East Coast girls
with their scarecrow limbs and Joker grins.
Their silver fox husbands, rosy from tanning beds,
steady their ladies who shuffle along in Miu Miu’s
(not muumuus) and make me hide behind towers
of handmade soaps and white pistachios. Who
knew I’d still feel like the high school fat girl
some thirty-odd years later? My Birkenstocks
and my propensity for fig newtons? Still, whenever
I’m face to face with a face that is no more real
than a doll’s, I try to love my crinkles, my saggy
chin skin. My body organic, with no preservatives.
This modern sonnet, “Florida Doll Sonnet”, breaks from the structures of those of John Donne. It’s much more modern, having being written in 1961 rather than in the 1600s. From its meaning to its structure it greatly differs from Donne; the lines flow better, following a rhyme scheme. It includes almost rhymes, ones that sound like they rhyme when we read them in our heads, “their scarecrow limbs and Joker grins”, “their silver fox husbands, rosy from tanning beds” and “my body organic, with no preservatives”. This structure is similar to that of “The Harlem Dancer” by Claude McKay, rather than the style that Donne follows. Similar to slam poetry, how you read the poem affects its meaning and the feeling. If you didn’t hear the almost rhymes when you read it, then it wouldn’t flow as nicely and could be less impactful. This also expresses a much more modern problem, one about feeling disconnected from the rich people around you who wear designer clothes. The author describes herself as "still [feeling] like the high school fat girl some thirty-odd years later". This is much different from the subject material of a sonnet like "Holy Sonnet VI", though it's still important and meaningful.
"Where You Live"
ReplyDeleteJonathan Wells, 2015
Imagine you are coming home. Your front
steps are scattered with fresh petals or no
they are not there and you return in your
regular shoes from your regular leather chair.
The feeling is the same. The petals are just
as fine, the colors just as blithe and were placed
or unplaced by the same loving hand
or troubled hand or loving troubled hands.
You walk into the foyer and kiss her cheek
or the air that was merely there when she left
the room. Your kiss is just as eager or as meek,
your lips just as ready to speak as yesterday.
The difference is immense and thin.
The difference is the house you’re living in.
In comparison to John Donne's poems, "Where You Live" is incredibly different. Of course, this can be expected as the poem is more modern, having been written in 2015. Although "Where You Live" does not follow a set rhyme scheme like "Holy Sonnet VI", the second stanza has a somewhat unorganized A-B-A-C-D-D pattern. In addition, there is not as much figurative language in the poem in contrast to "Holy Sonnet VI". In Donne's poem, he personifies Death, claiming "Death thou shalt die" and using other components to shape his extended metaphor. While "Where You Live" also has some vivid imagery, such as the description of the petals being "just as fine, the colors just as blithe...", it mostly refrains from using metaphors, hyperboles, personification, and so on. However, both of the poems have familiar (though not entirely reflective) moods. In fact, many of Donne's poems are depicted as being negative and dreary, capturing a loss of hope or an impending death. Though "Where You Live" does not touch on the subject of death, the last stanza of the poem makes it haunting and somber. In several ways, it also demonstrates nostalgia and romance, such as Donne does with "Sonnet XLIII". Despite the clear differences of these poems, this feeling of loneliness in the poets gives them a similar feel.
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteI like the references you make to other sonnets throughout your analyzation. I agree that it is definitely very different from a lot of his other poems!
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHoly Sonnet X
ReplyDeleteby John Donne, 1610
This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage last mile, and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earthborn body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they're bred and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
This is one of the John Donne sonnets that was posted in the blog, I chose to examine it because his poem we read together in class was interesting and viewing more of his work was intriguing. This sonnet follows the pattern (ABBA ABBA CDCD EE) which I found the definition of as a hybrid sonnet. Although it is not the most common sonnet structure we’ve studied, since it is defined on the internet it holds some importance. Like John Donne’s sonnet, “Holy Sonnet IV” this poem follows similar themes of life and death. He speaks about death as his “last pilgrimage mile, and my race idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace” as if he’s crossing some sort of finish line. John Donne does not seem afraid of death as he repeatedly has written about these ideas. He finishes this sonnet with the line “For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.” which reiterates his comfort with dying and entering a new afterlife.
“Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea”
ReplyDeleteWilliam Shakespeare
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
This sonnet depicts an interesting and honest perspective on life, death, and time. The poet knows that, in time, all things will lose their prior beauty and, ultimately, be destroyed. Even things that do not seem capable of succumbing to time’s power such as brass, stone, earth, and boundless sea, will, in fact, lose the power they seem to hold now. Something that Shakespeare does to emphasize this message is to develop an extended metaphor for time. In the sonnet, time is personified and made out to be ruthless and unforgiving towards every being and thing in the universe. In fact, time metaphorically invades summer whose “gates of steel so strong” are not strong enough to hold back time’s “wreckful siege” to bring about the next season. At the end of the sonnet, the poet describes “time’s best jewel,” which represents beauty, however, there will always be the inevitable arrival of time’s “swift foot” to take it away.
I really like your analysis on Shakespeares metaphor for time. It is very insightful and I never thought of it that way
DeleteI agree with Michelle. I think this analysis is very insightful and deep. The extended metaphor for time is definitely very present, and I like how you talked about the different points of the poem and what they meant.
Delete"Holy Sonnet IV"
ReplyDeleteby John Donne, 1610
This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile, and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they're bred and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
When I first read this poem, I was able to contrast the difference in tone between the metaphysical poetry vs older Shakesperian poetry. From the lines like “Whose fear already shakes my every joint.” (line 8) and “Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil, For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.” (line 13 and 14) I could tell that the tone was much more menacing and ominous compared to the others. While this was more eerie, the older ones are much more happy and about love in a more hopeful tone. I do think that the metaphysical poems were much harder to understand, as there were many different directions that you could interpret its meaning. Also from this poem, the rhyme scheme is ABBA following the more conventional means of rhyming. However, from the metaphysical poets, they use a variety of different types.
I definitely agree with you that this poem has a very, very harsh tone. It is not as light and airy as the traditional English sonnets.
Delete- Anna
"Ever"
ReplyDeleteby Meghan O'Rourke, 2015
Never, never, never, never, never.
—King Lear
Even now I can’t grasp “nothing” or “never.”
They’re unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.
Never? Never ever again to see you?
An error, I aver. You’re never nothing,
because nothing’s not a thing.
I know death is absolute, forever,
the guillotine—gutting—never to which we never say goodbye.
But even as I think “forever” it goes “ever”
and “ever” and “ever.” Ever after.
I’m a thing that keeps on thinking. So I never see you
is not a thing or think my mouth can ever. Aver:
You’re not “nothing.” But neither are you something.
Will I ever really get never?
You’re gone. Nothing, never—ever.
Much like “Death Be Not Proud”, the idea of death is touched upon in this poem. The idea of never and forever juxtapose each other. The line “You’re never nothing, because nothing’s not a thing” is very powerful because it makes the readers think. The concept of time is also touched upon as well when talking about goodbyes and if they are forever or just temporary. The author’s lyrical voice through her words makes this poem metaphysical. I really liked reading this because of its layers and its message. O’Rourke wants to ask the question if there truly is such thing as forever and how we can gain an understanding of that.
"The Harlem Dancer"
ReplyDeleteby Claude McKay, 1922
Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.
Claude McKay’s “The Harlem Dancer” used profound imagery to create a comparison between beauty and prostitutes. The poem had a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-c-d-c-d-e-f-e-f-g-g and was organized similar to the other sonnets we analyzed. The writer initially depicts two young individuals that watch half-naked women dance, implying they were stripping down. The individuals laughed along as they looked close at the prostitutes body, which creates a rather disturbing image for readers. However, the next immediate line goes away from the dismal tone and states that “her voice like the sound of blended flutes, blown by black players upon a picnic day”. These lines demonstrate the beauty within her voice, creating a more tranquil and elegant tone towards the women rather than the previous one. This constant contrast between the scene of stripping and beauty of the women was consistent throughout the poem, making it an interesting read.
"Holy Sonnet X"
ReplyDeleteby John Donne, 1610:
This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile, and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they're bred and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
Donne once again continues his theme of death in this sonnet. He uses a plethora of different metaphors to encapsulate the moments leading up to death and the feelings associated with that. This sonnet is a stereotypical metaphysical poem by Donne, he speaks vaguely of very dark topics: his fear of dying and going to hell for his sins. The Rhyme scheme goes: A BB AA BB A C D C D EE. I noticed that when the theme shifts from his fear of death to his fear of going to hell, the rhyme scheme shifts as well. Punctuation is not usually something I pay much attention to in poetry, but focusing upon it in this sonnet was very enlightening for me. As the theme shifted so did punctuation.