Analysis of A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VII
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt 1840 (Petworth House) – 1922 (United Kingdom)
Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo rings
Still in those syllables of vain delight!
What voice of what dead pleasures on what wings
Of Maenad laughters pulsing through the night!
How bravely her streets smile on me! How bright
Her shops, her houses, fair sepulchral things,
Stored with the sins of men forgotten quite,
The loves of mountebanks, the lusts of kings!
What message has she to me on this day
Of my new life? Shall I, a pilgrim wan,
Sit at her board and revel at her play,
As in the days of old? Nay, this is done.
It cannot be; and yet I love her well
With her broad roads and pleasant paths to Hell.
Scheme | ABABBABACDCEFF |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101011101 1011001101 1111110111 11110101 1100111111 01010111 1101110101 01110111 1101111111 1111110101 1101010101 1001111111 1101011101 1011010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 602 |
Words | 119 |
Sentences | 10 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 470 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 117 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 35 sec read
- 93 Views
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"A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VII" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/38588/a-new-pilgrimage%3A-sonnet-vii>.
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