Analysis of Sonnet. To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown
John Keats 1795 (Moorgate) – 1821 (Rome)
Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear
From my glad bosom, -- now from gloominess
I mount for ever -- not an atom less
Than the proud laurel shall content my bier.
No! by the eternal stars! or why sit here
In the Sun's eye, and 'gainst my temples press
Apollo's very leaves, woven to bless
By thy white fingers and thy spirit clear.
Lo! who dares say, 'Do this'? Who dares call down
My will from its high purpose? Who say,'Stand,'
Or, 'Go'? This mighty moment I would frown
On abject Caesars -- not the stoutest band
Of mailed heroes should tear off my crown:
Yet would I kneel and kiss thy gentle hand!
Scheme | ABBCCBBADEDEDE |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101110111 11110111 1111011101 1011011011 11001011111 0011011101 0101011011 1111001101 1111111111 1111110111 1111010111 110101011 111011111 1111011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 604 |
Words | 120 |
Sentences | 10 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 462 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 116 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 10, 2023
- 36 sec read
- 176 Views
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"Sonnet. To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23476/sonnet.-to-a-young-lady-who-sent-me-a-laurel-crown>.
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