Sonnet
Charles Lamb 1775 (Inner Temple, London) – 1834 (Edmonton, London)
The Lord of Life shakes off his drowsihed,
And 'gins to sprinkle on the earth below
Those rays that from his shaken locks do flow;
Meantime, by truant love of rambling led,
I turn my back on thy detested walls,
Proud city! and thy sons I leave behind,
A sordid, selfish, money-getting kind;
Brute things, who shut their ears when Freedom calls.
I pass not thee so lightly, well-known spire,
That mindest me of many a pleasure gone,
Of merrier days, of love and Islington;
Kindling afresh the flames of past desire.
And I shall muse on thee slow journeying on
To the green plains of pleasant Hertfordshire.
1795.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 21, 2023
- 33 sec read
- 63 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABBACAACDEEFGD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 606 |
Words | 111 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"Sonnet" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/5373/sonnet>.
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