Analysis of A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XIX
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt 1840 (Petworth House) – 1922 (United Kingdom)
Alas, that words like these should be but folly!
Behold, the Boulevard mocks, and I mock too.
Let us away and purge our melancholy
With the last laughter at the Ambigu!
Here all is real. Here glory's self is true
Through each regime to its own mission holy
Of plying still the world with something new
To cure its ache, or nobly souled or lowly.
One title Paris holds above the rest
Untouched by time or fortune's change or frown,
One temple of high fame, where she sits dressed
In youth eternal, and mirth's myrtle crown,
And where she writes, each night, with deathless hands,
``To all the glories--of the stage--of France.''
Scheme | ABACBABADEDEFG |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01111111110 0101010111 11010110100 10110101 111111111 11011111010 1101011101 11111101110 1101010101 0111110111 1101111111 0101001101 011111111 1101010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 622 |
Words | 115 |
Sentences | 7 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 490 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 112 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 35 sec read
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"A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XIX" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/38594/a-new-pilgrimage%3A-sonnet-xix>.
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