Sonnet 18 William Shakespeare
; Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? ; Thou art more lovely and more temperate : ; Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, ; And summer's lease hath all too short a date: ; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, ; And often is his gold complexion dimmed, ; And every fair from fair sometime declines, ; By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: ; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, ; Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, ; Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade , ; When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st ,
; So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, ; So long lives this , and this gives life to thee. ; What makes the poet think that “thou” can be more
; Sonnet29 William Shakespeare
; When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
; I all alone beweep my outcast state,
; And trouble dead 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 myself 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 rememb’red such wealth brings
; That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
; Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint
; Methought I saw my late espoused saint
; Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, ; whom Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave, ; Rescued from death by force though pale and faint, ; Mine, as whom washed from spot of childbed taint, ; Purification in the old law did save,
; And such, as yet once more I trust to have ; Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, ; Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. ; Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight, ; Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined ; So clear, as in no face with more delight. ; But O, as to embrace me she inclined,
; I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.
; Sonnet from the Portuguese
; E.B. 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 candlelight. ; 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 thee with the breath, ; Smiles, tears, of all my life:--and, if God choose, ; I shall but love thee better after death.
; Farewell~ Love
; Thomas Wyatt
; Farewell, love, and all thy laws forever, ; Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more; ; Senec and Plato call me from thy lore, ; To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavor. ; In blind error when I did persever,
; Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore, ; Hath taught me to set in trifles no store ; And ‘scape forth since liberty is lever, ; Therefore farewell, go trouble younger hearts, ; And in me claim no more authority;
; With idle youth go use thy property,
; And thereon spend thy many brittle darts. ; For hitherto though I have lost all my time, ; Me lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb.
; Composed upon Westminster Bridge ; William Wordsworth ; Earth has not anything to show more fair: ; Dull would he be of soul who could pass by ; A sight so touching in its majesty;
; This city now doth, like a garment, wear ; The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, ; Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and temples lie ; Open unto the fields, and to the sky; ; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. ; Never did sun more beautifully steep
; In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; ; Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! ; The river glideth at his own sweet will: ; Dear God! The very houses seem asleep; ; And all that mighty heart is lying still.
Further reading: Meeting at Night
by Robert Browning
; The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low:
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
Parting at Morning By Robert Browning
Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, 红岬见碧海
; And the sun looked over the mountain‟s rim: 红日俯群山
; And straight was a path of gold for him, 金光大道直
; And the need of a world of men for me. 男儿志四方
; A Red, Red Rose
; Robert Burns ; O, my luve’s like a red, red rose,
; That’s newly sprung in June;
; O, my luve’s like the melodie
; That’s sweetly played in tune.
; As fair are thou, my bonnie lass,
; So deep in luve am I;
; And I will luve thee still, my dear, ; Till all the seas gang dry.
; Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, ; And the rocks melt with the sun:
; I will luve thee still, my dear,
; While the sands o’life shall run.
; And fare thee weel, my only luve!
; And fare thee weel awhile!
; And I will come again, my luve,
; Though it were ten thousand mile.
Get Up and Bar the Door
; It feel about the Martinmas time, (圣马丁节；
; And a gay time it was then,
; When our goodwife got puddings to make, ; And she’s boiled them in the pan.
; The wind so cold blew south and north, ; And blew into the floor;
; Quoth our goodman (husband) to our good housewife,
; “Go out and bar the door.”
; “ My hand is in my hussyfscap,
; Goodman, as ye may see;
; If it should not be barr’d this hundred year, ; It‟s not be barr‟d by me.”
; They made a paction ‘tween them two,
; They made it firm and sure, ; That the first word whoe’er should speak, ; Should rise and bar the door.
; Then by there came two gentlemen, ; At twelve o’clock at night,
; And they could neither see house nor ball,
; Nor coal, nor candlelight.
; “Now whether is this a rich man‟s house,
; Or whether is it a poor?”
; But ne’er a word would one of them speak, ; For barring of the door.
; And first they ate white puddings, ; And then they ate the black: ; Tho’much thought the goodwife to herself, ; Yet ne’er a word she spake.
; Then said the one unto the other, ; “ Here, man, take ye my knife;
; You Take off the old man’s beard,
; And I‟ll kiss the goodwife.”
; “But there‟s no water in the house,
; And what shall we do then?”
; “ What ails ye at the pudding broth,
; That boils into the pan?”
; O, up then started our goodman, ; An angry man was he;
; “ Will ye kiss my wife before my eye,
; And scald me with pudding-broth?”
; O, up then started our goodwife,
; Made three skips on the floor;
; “Goodman, you‟ve spoken the foremost word;
; Get up and bar the door.”
; Blank verse: Blank verse is unrhymed poetry, typically in iambic pentameter, and, as
such, the dominant verse form of English dramatic and narrative poetry since the
mid-16th century. Blank verse is not written in stanza form. Instead, the poem is
developed in verse paragraphs that vary in length. Blank verse is a flexible form of
expression that gives the poet a choice of many variations within the metrical pattern.
Because of its flexibility, blank verse is especially appropriate for narrative and dramatic
poetry and other longer kinds of poetry. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, adapted blank
verse from Italian poetry to English in the early 1500’s. Christopher Marlowe and
Shakespeare used this form with great power and variety in their plays. Many poets of the
1800’s and 1900’s wrote in blank verse. They include William Wordsworth, William
Cullen Bryant, John Keats, Lord Tennyson, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Robert Frost, and
Hamlet?To be, or not to be-that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die-to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die-to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis‘d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th‘ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns-puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o‘er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action .
; It refers to the school of poets that appeared in the revolutionary period in England by
using quite unconventional and often surprising conceits; the metaphysical poets wrote
poems full of wit and humor. But sometimes the logic argument and conceits become
pervasive, going to preposterous dimensions. The language is colloquial but very
powerful, creating unorthodox images on the reader’s mind. John Donne and Andrew
Marvell are the representative metaphysical poets.
From the Italian concetto, “concept” or “idea”; used in renaissance poetry to mean a precise
and detailed comparison of something more remote or abstract with something more present or concrete, and often detailed through a chain of metaphors or similes. In Petrarchan poetry, certain conceits became conventionalized and were used again and again in various versions. The connection between the Lady’s eyes and the Sun, so typical of these, was based on the proportion her gaze: love’s life and day; sun’s shining; world’s life and daylight. Conceits were closely
linked to emblems, to the degree that verbal connection between the emblem picture and its meaning, was detailed in an interpretative conceit
; The Flea by John Donne
; Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
; How little that which thou deniest me is;
; Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
; And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
; Thou know’st that this cannot be said
; A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,
; Yet this enjoys before it woo,
; And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
; And this, alas, is more than we would do.
; Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
; Where we almost, nay more than married are. ; This flea is you and I, and this
; Our marriage bed and marriage temple is; ; Though parents grudge, and you, we are met, ; And cloistered in these living walls of jet. ; Though use make you apt to kill me, ; Let not to that, self-murder added be, ; And sacrilege, three sins in killing three. ; Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
; Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence? ; Wherein could this flea guilty be,
; Except in that drop which it sucked from thee? ; Yet thou triump’st, and say’st that thou
; Find'st not thy self nor me the weaker now; ; „Tis true; then learn how false fears be:
; Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me, ; Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
; 1.Why does the poet say that “this cannot be said a sin, or shame, or loss of
; 2.What do you think is the addressee’s parents’ attitude toward the poet’s wooing? ; 3.What is the real purpose of the poet to say that in killing the flea “thou” are actually
killing three lives?
; John Donne ; Go, and catch a falling star,
; Get with child a mandrake root,
; Tell me, where all past years are,
; Or who cleft the Devil’s foot,
; Teach me to hear mermaids’ singing,
; Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
; And find
; What wind
; Serves to advance an honest mind.
; It thou beest born to strange sights, ; Things invisible to see,
; Ride ten thousand days and nights,
; Till age snow white hairs on thee,
; Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me
; All strange wonders that befell thee, ; And swear
; No where
; Lives a woman true, and fair. ; If thou findst one, let me know, ; Such a pilgrimage were sweet; ; Yet do not, I would not go,
; Though at next door we might meet; ; Though she were true when you met her, ; And last till you write your letter, ; Yet she
; Will be
; False, ere I come, to two, or three. ; Questions:
; In what way is Donne’s poems different from the love poems written by other
; What is the central idea of this poem?
; To His Coy Mistress
; Andrew Marvell
; Had we but world enough, and time, ; This coyness, Lady, were no crime. ; We would sit down, and think which way ; To walk, and pass our long love’s day.
; Thou by the Indian Ganges’ tide
; Should’st rubies find, I by the tide ; Of Humber would complain, I would ; Love you ten years before the Flood, ; As you should, if you please, refuse ; Till the conversion of the Jews. ; My vegetable love should grow ; Vaster than empire and more slow. ; An hundred years should go to praise ; Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; ; Two hundred to adore each breast, ; But thirty thousand to the rest; ; An age at least to every part, ; And the last age should show your heart‟
; For, Lady, you deserve this state, ; Nor would I love at lower rate. ; But at my back I always hear
; Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
; And yonder all before us lie
; Deserts of vast eternity.
; Thy beauty shall no more be found;
; Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound ; My echoing song; then worms shall try ; That long-preserv’d virginity
; And your quaint honor turn to dust, ; And into ashes all my lust.
; The grave’s a fine and private place,
; But none I think do there embrace.
; Now therefore, while the youthful hue ; Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
; And while thy willing soul transpires ; At every pore with instant fires,
; Now let us sport us while we may;
; And now, like am’rous birds of prey,
; Rather at once our time devour,
; Than languish in his slow-chapped power. ; Let us roll all our strength, and all ; Our sweetness, up into one ball,
; And tear our pleasures with rough strife, ; Through the iron gates of life.
; Thus, though we cannot make our sun ; Stand still, yet we will make him run.
; It is a lyrical poem reveals “ a soul in action” through the conversation of one character
in a dramatic situation. The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a
dramatic moment in the speaker’s life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation
are made by implication in the poem, and a deep insight into the character of the speaker
is given. Although quite an old form, it was brought to a very high level by Robert
Browning. His poems. “ My Last Duchess”, “ Pippa Passes”, and T.S. Eliot‟s “ The Love
Song of Prufrock” are in this form too.
My Last Duchess
Ferrara Robert Browning ; That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, ; Looking as if she were alive. I call ; That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf 's hands
; Worked busily a day, and there she stands.