Sonnet IX.
Charlotte Smith 1749 (London) – 1806 (Tilford, Surrey)
BLEST is yon shepherd, on the turf reclined,
Who on the varied clouds which float above
Lies idly gazing--while his vacant mind
Pours out some tale antique of rural love!
Ah! he has never felt the pangs that move
Th' indignant spirit, when with selfish pride
Friends, on whose faith the trusting heart relied,
Unkindly shun th' imploring eye of woe!
The ills they ought to soothe with taunts deride,
And laugh at tears themselves have forced to flow.
Nor his rude bosom those fine feelings melt,
Children of Sentiment and Knowledge born,
Through whom each shaft with cruel force is felt,
Empoison'd by deceit--or barb'd with scorn.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 16, 2023
- 33 sec read
- 79 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABABCDDEDEFGFG |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 626 |
Words | 110 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"Sonnet IX." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/5589/sonnet-ix.>.
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