Analysis of Sonnet XVII. Happy Is England
John Keats 1795 (Moorgate) – 1821 (Rome)
Happy is England! I could be content
To see no other verdure than its own;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent:
Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment
For skies Italian, and an inward groan
To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,
And half forget what world or worldling meant.
Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;
Enough their simple loveliness for me,
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging:
Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,
And float with them about the summer waters.
Scheme | ABBAABBACDEDEC |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1011011110 111101111 1111010111 1111110101 11101101 1101001101 1101111101 010111111 1011010110 01110111 01110101010 1111010111 10110101110 01110101010 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 594 |
Words | 108 |
Sentences | 4 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 468 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 106 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 03, 2023
- 32 sec read
- 79 Views
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"Sonnet XVII. Happy Is England" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23465/sonnet-xvii.-happy-is-england>.
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