Analysis of To ****
John Keats 1795 (Moorgate) – 1821 (Rome)
Hadst thou liv'd in days of old,
O what wonders had been told
Of thy lively countenance,
And thy humid eyes that dance
In the midst of their own brightness;
In the very fane of lightness.
Over which thine eyebrows, leaning,
Picture out each lovely meaning:
In a dainty bend they lie,
Like to streaks across the sky,
Or the feathers from a crow,
Fallen on a bed of snow.
Of thy dark hair that extends
Into many graceful bends:
As the leaves of Hellebore
Turn to whence they sprung before.
And behind each ample curl
Peeps the richness of a pearl.
Downward too flows many a tress
With a glossy waviness;
Full, and round like globes that rise
From the censer to the skies
Through sunny air. Add too, the sweetness
Of thy honied voice; the neatness
Of thine ankle lightly turn'd:
With those beauties, scarce discern'd,
Kept with such sweet privacy,
That they seldom meet the eye
Of the little loves that fly
Round about with eager pry.
Saving when, with freshening lave,
Thou dipp'st them in the taintless wave;
Like twin water lillies, born
In the coolness of the morn.
O, if thou hadst breathed then,
Now the Muses had been ten.
Couldst thou wish for lineage higher
Than twin sister of Thalia?
At least for ever, evermore,
Will I call the Graces four.
Hadst thou liv'd when chivalry
Lifted up her lance on high,
Tell me what thou wouldst have been?
Ah! I see the silver sheen
Of thy broidered, floating vest
Cov’ring half thine ivory breast;
Which, O heavens! I should see,
But that cruel destiny
Has placed a golden cuirass there;
Keeping secret what is fair.
Like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested
Thy locks in knightly casque are rested:
O’er which bend four milky plumes
Like the gentle lilly’s blooms
Springing from a costly vase.
See with what a stately pace
Comes thine alabaster steed;
Servant of heroic deed!
O'er his loins, his trappings glow
Like the northern lights on snow.
Mount his back! thy sword unsheath!
Sign of the enchanter's death;
Bane of every wicked spell;
Silencer of dragon's yell.
Alas! thou this wilt never do:
Thou art an enchantress too,
And wilt surely never spill
Blood of those whose eyes can kill.
Scheme | AABXCCDDEEFFGGFHIIXBJJCCKKLEEEMMNNOOXXHH LEXXPPLLQQRRSSTTUUFFVVWWXXYY |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1110111 1110111 1110100 0110111 00111110 00101110 1011110 10111010 0010111 1110101 1010101 1010111 1111101 0110101 10111 1111101 0011101 1010101 10111001 10101 1011111 1010101 110111010 1111010 1110101 1110101 1111100 1110101 1010111 1011101 10111001 1110011 111011 0010101 111111 1010111 111110010 1110110 1111010 1110101 1111100 1010111 1111111 1110101 111101 1111001 1110111 1110100 1101011 1010111 1100110 110101110 1111101 101011 1010101 1110101 111001 1010101 10111101 1010111 111111 1100101 11100101 11101 01111101 11111 0110101 1111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,140 |
Words | 382 |
Sentences | 23 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 40, 28 |
Lines Amount | 68 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 838 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 190 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 10, 2023
- 1:57 min read
- 94 Views
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"To ****" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 9 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23505/to-%2A%2A%2A%2A>.
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