English. Poetry Unit. Grade 9. Sonnets

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Owen Gardner
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1 English Poetry Unit Grade 9 Sonnets

Sonnet CXXX (130) My Mistress Eyes Word Count: 123 My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be

2 Sonnet CXXX (130) My Mistress Eyes Word Count: 123 My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. Alexander Pope Sound and Sense Word Count: 123 True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense, The sound must seem an echo to the sense: Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar; When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labors, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise, And bid alternate passions fall and rise!

3 Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sonnet XXXIII (33) Yes, Call Me by My Pet-Name! Word Count: 123 Yes, call me by my pet-name! Let me hear The name I used to run at, when a child, From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled, To glance up in some face that proved me dear With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled Into the music of Heaven s undefiled, Call me no longer. Silence on the bier, While I call God call God! So let thy mouth Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south, And catch the early love up in the late. Yes, call me by that name, and I, in truth, With the same heart, will answer and not wait. Sonnet XVIII (18) Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer s Day? Word Count: 108 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 dimm d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature s changing course untrimm d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander st 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.

4 Sonnet LVI (56) Sweet Love, Renew Thy Force Word Count: 110 Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allay d, To-morrow sharpen d in his former might: So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness, To-morrow see again, and do not kill The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. Let this sad interim like the ocean be Which parts the shore, where two contracted new Come daily to the banks, that, when they see Return of love, more blest may be the view; Else call it winter, which being full of care Makes summer s welcome thrice more wish d, more rare. Sonnet LXXXVII (87) Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear Word Count: 104 Farewell! Though art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth give thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

5 Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sonnet XIV (14) If Thou Must Love Me Word Count: 98 If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love s sake only. Do not say I love her for her smile her look her way Of speaking gently, for a trick or thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day For these things in themselves, Beloved, may Be changed, or change for thee, and love, so wrought, May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity s wiping my cheeks dry, A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! But love me for love s sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on, through love s eternity. Sonnet LXXIII (73) That Time of Year Thou Mayst in Me Behold Word Count: 122 That time of year thou mayst in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self that seals up all in rest. In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

John Donne Death Be Not Proud Word Count: 123 Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die

6 John Donne Death Be Not Proud Word Count: 123 Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then; One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. Sonnet XLIII (43) When Most I Wink Word Count: 122 When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow s form from happy show To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

7 Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sonnet XLIII (43) How Do I Love Thee? Word Count: 126 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 everyday 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. Bob McKenty Adam s Song Word Count: 84 Come, live with me and be my love. Come romp with me in Eden s grove In unabated love, not shy But unabashed by nudity Where you can bare sans shame your breast Until the fell Forbidden Feast. Thereafter I shall toil and sweat To earn whatever bread we eat And you, in bearing children shall Know pain and suffering. The Fall Will bring us sickness, death, and fear, Embarrassment and underwear (For which the Fig donates its leaf) And poets who are surely deaf.

Questions: 1. Indicate what form of poetry is represented by this poem and explain briefly how you identified the form (2 points).

Questions: 1. Indicate what form of poetry is represented by this poem and explain briefly how you identified the form (2 points). English 202 (Sonnet #1) Sonnet Exercise #1 From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty s rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decrease, His tender heir might bear his