Analysis of A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XV
For thus it is. You flout at kings to--day.
To--morrow in your pride you shall stoop low
To a new tyrant who shall come your way,
And serve him meekly with mock--serious brow,
While the world laughs. I shall not laugh at you.
Your Bourbon, Bonaparte or Boulanger
Are foils to your own part of ingénue
Which moves me most, the moral of your play.
You have a mission in the world, to teach
All pride its level. Poet, prince and clown,
Each in your amorous arms has scaled the breach
Of his own pleasure and the world's renown.
Till with a yawn you turn, and from your bed
Kick out your hero with his ass's head.
Scheme | ABACDEFAGFGFHH |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111111111 1100111111 1011011111 01110111001 1011111111 110101100 111111111 1111010111 1101000111 1111010101 10110011101 1111000101 1101110111 111101111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 605 |
Words | 119 |
Sentences | 9 |
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) | 117 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 36 sec read
- 75 Views
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"A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XV" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/38596/a-new-pilgrimage%3A-sonnet-xv>.
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