Analysis of My throat is sore
John Wilbye 1574 (Diss) – 1638 (Colchester)
My throat is sore, my voice is hoarse with skriking,
My rests are sighs, deep from the heart’s root fetched;
My song runs all on sharps, and with oft striking
Time on my breast, I shrink with hands outstretched;
Thus still, and still I sing, and ne’er am linning,
For still the close points to my first beginning.
|Metre||1111111111 1111110111 11111101110 1111111101 1101110111 11011111010|
|Closest metre||Iambic pentameter|
|Letters per line (avg)||41|
|Words per line (avg)||10|
|Letters per stanza (avg)||243|
|Words per stanza (avg)||58|
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 18 sec read
- 72 Views
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"My throat is sore" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 1 Jun 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/24216/my-throat-is-sore>.
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