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Updated: May 28, 2025
'Wind bloweth, Cock croweth, Doodle-doo; Hippy verteth, Ricky sterteth, Sing Cuckoo! There's an old native pastoral! Why don't you write a Spring sonnet, Ricky? The asparagus-beds are full of promise, I hear, and eke the strawberry. Berries I fancy your Pegasus has a taste for.
The Christian name he found of course in the punning sonnets, CXXXV. and CXLIII.; the surname was, according to him, hidden in the seventh line of the 20th Sonnet, where Mr. W. H. is described as A man in hew, all HEWS in his controwling.
There was a haunted room at Blakesware, but the suggestion that the famous Mrs. Battle died in it was probably due to a sudden whimsical impulse. Lamb states in "Dream-Children" that Mrs. Field occupied this room. The hills of Lincoln. See Lamb's sonnet "On the Family Name," Vol. IV. Lamb's father came from Lincoln. Those old W s. Lamb thus disguised the name of Plumer.
The charm is that of an odour of iris exhaled by some ideal tissues, or of a missal in a gold case, a precious relic of the pomp and ritual of an archbishop of Persepolis. In English there is no sonnet so beautiful, its beauty cannot be worn away, it is as inexhaustible as a Greek marble. The hiatus in the last line was at first a little trying, but I have learned to love it.
"I've heard you make up poetry worth ten times that. Don't you remember that little sonnet you once composed, entitled 'Who Put Ink in Willie's Shoes? It was great, grand, sublime!" "I never wrote such a sonnet!" cried Songbird. "Ink in shoes, indeed! Tom, you don't know real poetry when you see it!" "That's a fact, I don't. But, say, what's on the carpet, as the iceman said to the thrush?"
Then there was her sonnet, "Shall I Meet Thee There?" which Jerry had always supposed to have been inspired by a departed lover, and many, many others that touched the heart and were easy to remember, they ran so steadily, with such a constant beat. Jerry knew exactly how she would look.
If it were a coarse-looking girl spinning hemp, to be sure one should pity her, but it would not be half so moving. It will be delightful. I will call on you to-morrow, exactly at two, and carry you all. Perhaps," whispered she to Lady Belfield, "I may work up the circumstances into a sonnet. Do think of a striking title for it.
We also learn from these letters that the Battle of Pisa then remained in the Sala del Papa. I will conclude this chapter by translating a sonnet addressed to Giovanni da Pistoja, in which Michelangelo humorously describes the discomforts he endured while engaged upon the Sistine.
Yet it appears certain that many narrative measures affect us fully as much through their intimate association with the moods of song as through their specific adaptiveness to the purposes of narrative. The Ballad The supreme illustration of this blending of story and song is the ballad. The word "ballad," like "ode" and "sonnet," is very ancient and has been used in various senses.
She told her maid, having no other confidante at hand, that she had met with the most romantic adventure the most singular man one who had known the author of her being her persecuted her unhappy her heroic her murdered father; and she began a sonnet to his manes before she went to sleep.
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