Posts tagged ‘sonnet’

Monday, 15 July 2019

Sonnet [I Love the First Shiver of Winter] by Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay

I love the first shiver of winter! That day
When the stubble resists the hunter’s foot,
When magpies settle on fields fragrant with hay,
And deep in the old chateau, the hearth is lit.

That’s the city time. I remember last year,
I came back and saw the good Louvre and its dome,
Paris and its smoke—that whole realm so dear.
(I can still hear the postilions shouting, “We’re home!”)

I loved the gray weather, the strollers, the Seine
Under a thousand lanterns, sovereign!
I’d see winter, and you, my love, you!

Madame, I’d steep my soul in your glances,
But did I even realize the chances
That soon your heart would change for me too?

From: Rogow, Zack, “Three Poems by Alfred de Musset” in Transference, Volume 6, Issue 1, Article 15, 2008, p. 66.
(https://scholarworks.wmich.edu/transference/vol6/iss1/15)

Date: 1829 (original in French), 2008 (translation in English)

By: Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay (1810-1857)

Translated by: Zack Rogow (1952- )

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Tuesday, 4 June 2019

Sonnet by Attipate Krishnaswami Ramanujan

Time moves in and out of me
a stream of sound, a breeze,
an electric current that seeks
the ground, liquids that transpire

through my veins, stems and leaves
toward the skies to make fog and mist
around the trees. Mornings brown
into evenings before I turn around

in the day. Postage stamps, words
of unwritten letters complete with commas,
misplaced leases and passports, excuses
and blame swirl through the night

and take me far away from home
as time moves in and out of me.

From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=39000

Dater: 1994 (published)

By: Attipate Krishnaswami Ramanujan (1929-1993)

Thursday, 23 May 2019

Sonnet by Arthur Henry Hallam

A melancholy thought had laid me low;
A thought of self-desertion, and the death
Of feelings wont with my heart’s blood to flow,
And feed the inner soul with purest breath.
The idle busy star of daily life,
Base passions, haughty doubts, and selfish fears,
Have withered up my being in a strife
Unkind, and dried the source of human tears.
One evening I went forth, and stood alone
With Nature: moon there was not, nor the light
Of any star in heaven: yet from the sight
Of that dim nightfall better hope hath grown
Upon my spirit, and from those cedars high
Solemnly changeless, as the very sky.

Sept, 1830.

From: Hallam, Arthur Henry, The Poems of Arthur Henry Hallam, Together with his Essay on the Lyrical Poems of Alfred Tennyson, 1893, Elkin Mathews & John Lane: London, p. 69.
(https://archive.org/details/poemsarthurhenr00hallgoog/)

Date: 1830

By: Arthur Henry Hallam (1811-1833)

Saturday, 4 May 2019

Sonnet (The Song of Birds) by Matteo Maria Boiardo

The song of birds which leaps from leaf to leaf,
The scented breeze that runs from flower to flower,
The shining dew that glitters in each bower,
Rejoice our sight and banish thoughts of grief.
It is because She holds all Nature in fief
Whose will is that the world shall live Love’s hour;
Sweet scents and songs – the Spring’s own magic power—
Each stream invade, each wind, each emerald sheaf.
Where’er She walks, She by her gaze enstarred
Brings warmth before due season in her arms;
Love’s kindled in her look and falls in showers;
At her sweet smile or at her sweet regard
The grass grows green and colours paint the flowers,
The sky is clear, the sea is locked in calms.

From: Lind, L. R. (ed.), Lyric Poetry of the Italian Renaissance: An Anthology with Verse Translations, 1964, Yale University Press: New Haven and London, p. 215.
(https://archive.org/details/lyricpoetryofita00lind/)

Date: 15th century (original in Italian); 1951 (translation in English)

By: Matteo Maria Boiardo (1441-1494)

Translated by: Irwin Peter Russell (1921-2003)

Wednesday, 14 November 2018

Sonnet by Elbridge Jefferson Cutler

The flag is folded; for the battle’s din,
The cry of trumpet and the blaze of gun,
The thunderous rush of squadrons closing in,
The stifled groan, the triumph-shout, are done.

And Peace is come, with passionless, mild eyes,—
A mother’s eyes, a mother’s tenderness;
Calmed by her touch the weary nation lies,
And feels her dewy breath upon his face.

But Time cannot avail, with all his years,
Some chasms in our riven hearts to fill,
Whence misty memories rise to break in tears,
And ghosts of buried hopes that haunt us still,

Yet bring a kind of joy,—the solemn trust
That form is more than unsubstantial dust.

From: Cutler, Elbridge Jefferson, War Poems, 1867, Little, Brown, and Company: Boston, pp. 46-47.
(https://archive.org/details/warpoems00cutliala/)

Date: 1867

By: Elbridge Jefferson Cutler (1831-1870)

Saturday, 18 August 2018

Sonnet by Mary Matilda Betham

Urge me no more! nor think, because I seem
Tame and unsorrowirig in the world’s rude strife,
That anguish and resentment have not life
Within the heart that ye so quiet deem:
In this forc’d stillness only, I sustain
My thought and feeling, wearied out with pain!
Floating as ’twere upon some wild abyss
Whence, silent Patience, bending o’er the brink,
Would rescue them with strong and steady hand,
And join again, by that connecting link,
Which now is broken:—O, respect her care!
Respect her in this fearful self-command!
No moment teems with greater woe than this,
Should she but pause, or falter in despair!

From: Betham, Matilda, Poems, 1808, J. Hatchard: London, p. 48.
(https://archive.org/details/poemsbymatildab00bethgoog)

Date: 1808

By: Mary Matilda Betham (1776-1852)

Sunday, 13 May 2018

Sonnet by Robert Bland

Tu in bei facondi detti
Sciogli la lingua de’ Fedeli tuoi, &c.*

         Aminta: A. 2, S. 3, Coro. [Torquato Tasso]

Love, the great master of true eloquence,
Disdains the tribute of a vulgar tongue:
Cold are the words and vain the affected song
Of him whose boasted passion is pretence.
The favoured few that to his court belong
With noblest gifts the mighty God presents;
Their powerful language chains the admiring sense,
And their warm words in torrents pour along.
And oft (oh wondrous excellence of Love!)
Oft trembling vows, and sighs, and accents broken,
With far more force th’ enraptur’d hearer move,
Than smoothes the phrase with courtliest action spoken.
E’en silence oft has found the power to prove
Both words and prayers, when she is true love’s token.

*You let loose the tongue of your Votaries in beautiful and eloquent Discourses (translation by P. B. Du-Bois, 1726)

From: Bland, Robert, Translations Chiefly from the Greek Anthology, with Tales and Miscellaneous Poems, 1806, Richard Phillips: London, p. 231.
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=mWcMAAAAYAAJ)

Date: 1806

By: Robert Bland (?1779-1825)

Monday, 22 May 2017

Sonnet by Elise Justine Bayard Cutting

Sprung from the arid rock devoid of soil,
In vig’rous life I saw one blade of wheat,
Bearing its precious grain, full-lobed and sweet,
Remote from eye of him whose lusty toil
In other harvest recompense hath found;
And it seemed good to me that labour should
Beyond its aim or asking thus abound,
While reaping to itself its purchased food:
So, too, from him, who the prolific thought
Sows in the cultured field of intellect,
A wandering breath its course may intersect,
And bear an embryo with rich promise fraught
Within some barren soul to germinate,
And fill with fruitful life what else were desolate.

From: http://www.lehigh.edu/~dek7/SSAWW/writ19CenBayar.htm

Date: c1840

By: Elise Justine Bayard Cutting (1823-1853)

Wednesday, 31 August 2016

Sonnet by Pietro Bembo

Thou too then, Brother, in the tide of spring
Dying, hast left me solitary here,
Whence life, before so bright and glad a thing,
Is shadowed over with dismay and fear;
Justice it would have been and passionate
Desire of mine that hitherwards the dart
Firstly had sped, that as I was not late
In coming, so I might betimes depart.
Then I would not have known such deep despair,
Nor seen myself’s best portion borne away,
Nor been subjected to such misery;
But now, since I before thee might not fare,
God grant, Who loveth equity, I may
Be liberated soon and follow thee.

From: http://elfinspell.com/BemboPoem.html

Date: 1530 (original in Italian), 1922 (translation in English)

By: Pietro Bembo (1470-1547)

Translated by: Lorna de’Lucchi (?-?)

Tuesday, 5 January 2016

Sonnet by Margaret Wrench Holford

O ye! who spread aloft your silken sails,
While down bright Pleasure’s glassy stream ye glide,
Wafted by Fortune’s ever-varying gales
Beneath Hope’s flatt’ring sky, steer’d by your pilot Pride–
The siren song of gay Security
Thrills in soft measures through the charmed air;
She bids ye listen to the tale of Joy,
Nor fear the storms of Grief nor rugged rocks of Care.
But see with Fate’s dark clouds the sky o’ercast;
Now through the shrouds the whistling tempest raves,
Cold Disappointment comes with chilling blast,
And whelms your painted bark deep in Destruction’s waves,
Untaught to stem Misfortune’s torrents rude,
Or shun the hidden rocks of sad Viccissitude.

From: Holford, M, Gresford Vale, and Other Poems, 1798, Hookham and Carpenter: London, p. 37.
(http://find.galegroup.com.rp.nla.gov.au/ecco/infomark.do?&source=gale&prodId=ECCO&userGroupName=nla&tabID=T001&docId=CW117026681&type=multipage&contentSet=ECCOArticles&version=1.0&docLevel=FASCIMILE)

Date: 1798

By: Margaret Wrench Holford (1757-1834)