What is a sonnet?

[AlwaysHungry]

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

This is a particularly interesting example, AH, because it seems to illustrate what I was going to talk about next--a sonnet without a volta (or with a greatly attenuated volta), sometimes called a "Miltonic Sonnet," as this style variation is characteristic of Milton's sonnets.

Donne's poem has the usual fourteen lines, is roughly iambic pentameter (I find those first two lines particularly hard to scan), and is rhymed abbaabbacddcee, in the kind of quasi-English sonnet pattern you described earlier. But where's the turn?

I think that there is the equivalent of a turn, but Donne has a very idiosyncratic approach to it. His "Holy Sonnets", of which this is one, are based on the conceit of logical paradoxes. Through the lens of his faith, he views death, normally depicted as inexorable and invincible (along with taxes), as impotent. So he unfolds this paradox in stages, first in lines 4-5:

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

He returns to this theme at line 9, the traditional spot for the volta in the Italian scheme, and spends 4 lines belittling death. Then he goes "English" and delivers what I think of as one hell of punch line in the concluding couplet.

Here's another Holy Sonnet with a similar ironic approach, and a similar killer ending:

Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend,
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurp't town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd , and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy:
Divorce mee, untie, or breake that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

On the Religious Memory of Mrs. Catherine Thomson,
My Christian Friend, Deceased December 16, 1646
John Milton

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never,
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load
Of Death, called Life, which us from Life doth sever.
Thy works and alms and all thy good endeavour,
Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod;
But as Faith pointed with her golden rod,
Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever.
Love led them on; and Faith, who knew them best
Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest,
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes
Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest,
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.

Fourteen lines, iambic pentameter (with the usual scattering of substitutions), rhymed abbaabbacdcdcd. Classic Italian form, but where's the volta? It should, per the form, come at the 8/9 boundary, but I don't see anything there that resembles a turn in the theme of the poem.

I do, but it's a weak one. I don't especially like this poem; compared to the audacity of Donne's poems on similar themes, it seems tepid. But I'm looking at line 9, where one expects to see a volta, and it looks to me that he moves from lumping faith and love together in line one, to separating them in line 9, making love the leader and faith a sort of defense attorney.

 

[Tzara]

Here's something a little different, sonnet-wise. It's one of a series of poems by George Meredith from his sequence Modern Love:

Modern Love XXX
George Meredith

What are we first? First, animals; and next
Intelligences at a leap; on whom
Pale lies the distant shadow of the tomb,
And all that draweth on the tomb for text.
Into which state comes Love, the crowning sun:
Beneath whose light the shadow loses form.
We are the lords of life, and life is warm.
Intelligence and instinct now are one.
But nature says: "My children most they seem
When they least know me: therefore I decree
That they shall suffer." Swift doth young Love flee,
And we stand wakened, shivering from our dream.
Then if we study Nature we are wise.
Thus do the few who live but with the day:
The scientific animals are they—
Lady, this is my sonnet to your eyes.​

OK, what have we here? Fourte. . . wait, sixteen lines?! Iambic pentameter, rhymed abbacddceffeghhg, with a clear turn at the 8/9 boundary.

The poems in Meredith's Modern Love are generally considered to be sonnets, though of a unique nature. Their envelope rhyme pattern somewhat resembles that of the octave in an Italian sonnet, though the actual rhymes change every four lines. The volta is, as AH indicated earlier, characteristic of the sonnet form. So perhaps the extra lines don't matter all that much.

But, at least, they make us stretch the definition of sonnet a bit more.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

Here's something a little different, sonnet-wise. It's one of a series of poems by George Meredith from his sequence Modern Love

He is is far more strict in his meter than are his slightly earlier counterparts (I looked him up -- he was born just a few years after the deaths of Keats and Shelley.) He doesn't stray from iambic pentameter until he throws in a trochee substitution in the final line, probably for emphasis. I found the final line oddly anticlimactic, though.

It's funny about the 16 lines -- it's like he got into that Petrarchan groove with the initial abba cddc quatrains, and just couldn't stop, so he overshot the ending.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

And now for something slightly different -- a sonnet by a Lit poet:

A Silent Whisper, One Night
byLauren Hynde©

a sonnet

Intractable spell, that voice's opiate sigh,
With sounds of gold in nights of doubts umpteen;
By silver sparks, her say reveals a Queen,
She dances naked, lustful—laughs so sly—

A Tigress, tenders me a gleaming thigh,
Intoxicate on Cool, her Beaut pristine,
Bestows her sex and—Oh marvellous scene!—
We spasm together, twin souls soaring high—

But never have I seen her—not a glance!—
Her voice alone commands my heart like this,
I don't desire her flesh, or mere romance—

She's just a voice-in-heat, the quiet ballerina—
And for that voice-turned-real, that Goddess Athena,
I dream to melt away, drown in shivering bliss—

Here we go:

14 lines
Volta just where you'd expect
abba cddc efe ggf (interesting variant)

...but here's the odd part. It's iambic pentameter until the last stanza, and then it's suddenly a somewhat bumpy hexameter, like the centipede with a limp. This seems clearly intentional, and she introduces some rather cryptic imagery there as well. What do you think is going on?

 

[Tzara]

14 lines
Volta just where you'd expect
abba cddc efe ggf (interesting variant)

...but here's the odd part. It's iambic pentameter until the last stanza, and then it's suddenly a somewhat bumpy hexameter, like the centipede with a limp. This seems clearly intentional, and she introduces some rather cryptic imagery there as well. What do you think is going on?

I see it as a more-or-less standard Italian sonnet. The octave is rhymed abba abba as one would expect (not abba cddc), the volta occurs at the octave/sestet boundary, and the sestet rhyme (cdc eed) is really a pretty mild variation on one of the more common schemes (cdc ede).

Now, the meter. That is a bit odd at times, but that might be due at least in part to the fact that English is not Lauren's native tongue. But let's look at the meter in depth; here's how I scan the poem:

In·tract / ab·le spell, / that voic / e's o / pi·ate sigh, <-- The anapests could be "slurred" into iambs, depending on one's pronunciation.
With sounds / of gold / in nights / of doubts / ump·teen;
By sil / ver sparks, / her say / re·veals / a Queen,
She danc / es na / ked, lust / ful—laughs / so sly—

A Ti / gress, ten / ders me / a gleam / ing thigh,
In·tox / i·cate / on Cool, / her Beaut / pris·tine,
Be·stows / her sex / and—Oh / mar·vel / lous scene!—
We spasm / to·geth / er, twin / souls soar / ing high—

But nev / er have / I seen / her—not / a glance!—
Her voice / a·lone / com·mands / my heart / like this,
I don't / de·sire / her flesh, / or mere / ro·mance—

She's just / a voice / -in-heat, / the qui / et bal / ler·in·a—
And for / that voice / -turned-real, / that God / dess A·then·a,
I dream / to melt / a·way, / drown in / shiv·ering / bliss— <-- If you scan "shivering" as three syllables, the line ends on two trochees and an iamb; I prefer the (implied) three trochees.​

Line 12 is, as I hear it, pretty straightforward iambic hexameter (with a feminine ending), but the other two lines are kind of odd. Line 13 is pentameter, with either a pyrrhic foot followed by a trochee at the end (/ dess A / then·a) or as a anapest with a feminine end (which is kind of strange). Line 14 is quite interesting--it works best for me as three iambs followed by three trochees, the last catalectic.

Inserting an occasional line of iambic hexameter (sometimes called an alexandrine) isn't unusual in iambic pentameter--Pope does it all the time--but it is a little odd to see it in a sonnet. But even here, there are earlier examples of the practice. One of the very first sonnets in English is a translation or adaptation of Petrarch's Sonnet 104 by Sir Thomas Wyatt:

I Find no Peace
Sir Thomas Wyatt

I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not—yet can I scape no wise—
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife.​

The poem has several lines that are metrical variations, but note particularly line 3, which is iambic hexameter.

Assuming the metrical variation in the latter half of Lauren's sestet is intentional, it could be there to show uncertainty or confusion on the part of the narrator. Or it could be trying to mimic more of a prose feeling--the narrator has climaxed with the partner at the volta (quite a turn, that ), and the meter may be breaking up due to the return of the narrator's body to normal.

Or something like that.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

D'oh, I completely missed the abba abba. I agree with your scansion -- two weak syllables that go by quickly can pass for one more leisurely weak syllable.

I'm puzzling over that final stanza -- to me, the change in line length seems somehow connected to the introduction of some surprising images, such as the ballerina (what?) and the goddess Athena (huh?). There are some other peculiar formulations early on, such as "nights of doubts umpteen". But I love "that voice's opiate sigh" -- she had me at that line. I sent a PM to Ms Hynde, inviting her to participate in this thread.

 

[Tzara]

OK. The "Miltonic Sonnet," part two. The traditional subject of the sonnet in English, anyway, is love or some variation on it (Donne's love of God, for example?). One of the things Milton did with the sonnet is make it a form about political discourse. Like this one:

To Cyriack Skinner

Cyriack, whose grandsire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause,
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drenchdt
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.​

Yeah. Dull as anything, but it certaintly isn't about love.

But that style or theme or whatever was resurrected years later in this poem, by Richard Wilbur:

A Miltonic Sonnet for Mr. Johnson on
His Refusal of Peter Hurd's Official Portrait

Heir to the office of a man not dead
Who drew our Declaration up, who planned
Range and Rotunda with his drawing-hand
And harbored Palestrina in his head,
Who would have wept to see small nations dread
The imposition of our cattle-brand,
With public truth at home mistook or banned,
And in whose term no army's blood was shed,

Rightly you say the picture is too large
Which Peter Hurd by your appointment drew,
And justly call that Capitol too bright
Which signifies our people in your charge;
Wait, Sir, and see how time will render you,
Who talk of vision but are weak of sight.​

Wilbur was criticized for calling this a "Miltonic sonnet," because of the very clear turn at the 8/9 boundary. His response was to note that the poem was "Miltonic" because of the political subject.