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Apostrophe – when one speaks to something or someone that cannot reply back couplet (R25) iambic pentameter (R27 under “meter”) rhyme scheme (R31) types.

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Presentation on theme: "Apostrophe – when one speaks to something or someone that cannot reply back couplet (R25) iambic pentameter (R27 under “meter”) rhyme scheme (R31) types."— Presentation transcript:

1 apostrophe – when one speaks to something or someone that cannot reply back couplet (R25) iambic pentameter (R27 under “meter”) rhyme scheme (R31) types of sonnets (R32) octave (R32 under “stanza”) quatrain (R32 under “stanza”) sestet (R32 under “stanza”)

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3 William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. A B A B C D C D E F E F G G

4 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. quatrains couplet

5 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

6 / X / X X / X / X / Let me not to the marriage of true minds X / X / X / / X X / Admit impediments. Love is not love X / X / X / X / X / Which alters when it alteration finds, X / X / X / X / X / Or bends with the remover to remove: Predominantly iambic pentameter (with a few trochees here and there at times!)

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8 John Donne’s Holy Sonnet 1 Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday; I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh; Only thou art above, and when towards thee By thy leave I can look, I rise again; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one hour my self I can sustain; Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart. A B B A A B B A C D C D E E

9 Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday; I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh; Only thou art above, and when towards thee By thy leave I can look, I rise again; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one hour my self I can sustain; Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart. octave sestet Can be divided into two quatrains Can be divided into a quatrain and a couplet

10 Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday; I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh; Only thou art above, and when towards thee By thy leave I can look, I rise again; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one hour my self I can sustain; Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.

11 / X / X X / X / X / Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? X / X / X / X / X / Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, X / X / X / / X X / I run to death, and death meets me as fast, X / X / X / X / X / And all my pleasures are like yesterday; Predominantly iambic pentameter (again, a few trochees here and there!)

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13 Sir Edmund Spenser’s Sonnet 1 Happy ye leaves when as those lily hands, Which hold my life in their dead-doing might, Shall handle you and hold in love's soft bands, Like captives trembling at the victor's sight. And happy lines, on which with starry light, Those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look And read the sorrows of my dying sprite, Written with tears in heart's close-bleeding book. And happy rhymes bath'd in the sacred brook, Of Helicon whence she derived is, When ye behold that Angel's blessed look, My soul's long-lacked food, my heaven's bliss. Leaves, lines, and rhymes, seek her to please alone, Whom if ye please, I care for other none. A B A B B C B C C D C D E E

14 quatrains couplet Happy ye leaves when as those lily hands, Which hold my life in their dead-doing might, Shall handle you and hold in love's soft bands, Like captives trembling at the victor's sight. And happy lines, on which with starry light, Those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look And read the sorrows of my dying sprite, Written with tears in heart's close-bleeding book. And happy rhymes bath'd in the sacred brook, Of Helicon whence she derived is, When ye behold that Angel's blessed look, My soul's long-lacked food, my heaven's bliss. Leaves, lines, and rhymes, seek her to please alone, Whom if ye please, I care for other none.

15 Happy ye leaves when as those lily hands, Which hold my life in their dead-doing might, Shall handle you and hold in love's soft bands, Like captives trembling at the victor's sight. And happy lines, on which with starry light, Those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look And read the sorrows of my dying sprite, Written with tears in heart's close-bleeding book. And happy rhymes bath'd in the sacred brook, Of Helicon whence she derived is, When ye behold that Angel's blessed look, My soul's long-lacked food, my heaven's bliss. Leaves, lines, and rhymes, seek her to please alone, Whom if ye please, I care for other none.

16 / X X / X / X / X / Happy ye leaves when as those lily hands X / X / X / X /X / Which hold my life in their dead-doing might, X / X / X / X / X / Shall handle you and hold in love's soft bands, X / X / X / X / X / Like captives trembling at the victor's sight. Predominantly iambic pentameter (again, an occasional trochaic foot)

17 ALL sonnets are predominantly in iambic pentameter and are fourteen lines in length. Shakespearean (English) rhyme scheme: ABABCDCDEFEFGG Petrarchan (Italian) rhyme scheme: ABBAABBACDCDEE or ABBAABBACDECDE Spenserian rhyme scheme: ABABBCBCCDCDEE


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