Analysis of My Heart Is Sick With Longing
Thomas Hood 1799 (London) – 1845 (London)
My heart is sick with longing, tho' I feed
On hope; Time goes with such a heavy pace
That neither brings nor takes from thy embrace,
As if he slept—forgetting his old speed:
For, as in sunshine only we can read
The march of minutes on the dial's face,
So in the shadows of this lonely place
There is no love, and Time is dead indeed.
But when, dear lady, I am near thy heart,
Thy smile is time, and then so swift it flies,
It seems we only meet to tear apart,
With aching hands and lingering of eyes.
Alas, alas! that we must learn hours' flight
By the same light of love that makes them bright!
Scheme | ABBACBBADEDEFF |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111110111 1111110101 1101111101 1111010111 110110111 0111010101 100111101 1111011101 1111011111 1111011111 1111011101 1101010011 01011111101 1011111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 605 |
Words | 120 |
Sentences | 5 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 456 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 118 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 36 sec read
- 100 Views
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