Later Sonnet Writers.-Wordsworth is generally regarded as our greatest sonneteer. He wrote over four hundred of these poems, some of which have never been excelled. Other writers who have been especially successful with this form are Milton, Keats, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and Dante Rossetti.

Study of the Sonnet.-In each of the following sonnets notice the two waves of thought, and the rhyming-scheme in octave and sestet. See in what particulars the sonnets of Shakespeare differ from the others.

SONNET XXIX

Shakespeare

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 my-self, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featur'd like him, like him with friends possest,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising
Happily 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.

SONNET XXX
Shakespeare

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 now wail my dear time's waste;
Then can I drown an eye unus'd to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since cancel'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanisht sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,

Which I now pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

MILTON'S SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS

When I consider how my life 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.

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, 1802
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, theatres 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 splendour 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!

LONDON, 1802 (TO MILTON)
Wordsworth

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower

10

5

10

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;

And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart :

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,

So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER

Keats

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen:
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken,
Or like stout Cortez1 when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific-and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise—
Silent, upon the peak in Darien.

SONNET XLIII

FROM "SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE".

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 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;

1 Balboa, not Cortez, discovered the Pacific Ocean.

10

5

10

5

ΙΟ

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.

NATURE 1

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.

WORK 2

Henry Van Dyke

Let me but do my work from day to day,

In field or forest, at the desk or loom,

In roaring market-place or tranquil room;

Let me but find it in my heart to say,

When flagrant wishes beckon me astray,

"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;
Of all who live, I am the one by whom

This work can best be done in the right way."

Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,

5

10

5

To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;
Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,

And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play and love and rest,

Because I know for me my work is best.

1 Used by permission of the Houghton Mifflin Company.

ΙΟ

2 From Music and Other Poems by Henry Van Dyke, Copyright, 1904, Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by special arrangement with the publishers.

VOICES 1

Louis Untermeyer

All day with anxious heart and wondering ear
I listened to the city; heard the ground
Echo with human thunder, and the sound
Go reeling down the streets and disappear.
The headlong hours, in their wild career,

Shouted and sang until the world was drowned
With babel-voices, each one more profound. . . .

All day it surged-but nothing could I hear.

That night the country never seemed so still;
The trees and grasses spoke without a word

To stars that brushed them with their silver wings.

Together with the moon I climbed the hill,

And, in the very heart of Silence, heard

The speech and music of immortal things.

5

ΙΟ

SUGGESTIONS TO STUDENTS

The following sonnets, written by high school seniors, are placed here with the hope that they may inspire other students to try the sonnet' form.

OUR STAR OF GOLD

A golden star upon the field of white,
Surrounded all with stars of deeper hue,

With crosses red, and living stars of blue.

A hero-boy upon the field of fight,

His life has gone protecting honor, right.

His soul was large; his heart beat strong and true;

He gave his all in just defence of you.

What means it all-these golden stars tonight?

That in the dawn of life, again, and love,

Which sees no

more the battle, death, and tears,

We all must on our way; our life enhance;

Must do our best, with help of God above,

To add to ours their hopes and aims and cares;
To give their best, the lads who sleep in France.

(V. C. 20.)

1 Used by special arrangement with the publishers, The Century Company.