Famous Long Sonnet Poems

Famous Long Sonnet Poems. Long Sonnet Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Sonnet long poems

See also: Long Member Poems

CANZONE III. Verdi panni, sanguigni, oscuri o persi. WHETHER OR NOT HE SHOULD CEASE TO LOVE LAURA.  Green robes and red, purple, or brown, or grayNo lady ever wore,Nor hair of gold in sunny tresses twined,So beautiful as she, who spoils my mindOf judgment, and from freedom's lofty pathSo draws me with her that I may not bearAny less heavy yoke. And if indeed at times—for wisdom failsWhere martyrdom breeds doubt—The soul should ever arm it to complainSuddenly from each reinless rude desireHer smile recalls, and razes from my heartEvery rash enterprise, while all disdainIs soften'd in her sight. For all that I have ever borne for love,And still am doom'd to bear,Till she who wounded it shall heal my heart,Rejecting homage e'en while she invites,Be vengeance done! but let not pride nor ire'Gainst my humility the lovely passBy which I enter'd bar. [Pg 33]The hour and day wherein I oped my eyesOn the bright black and white,Which drive me thence where eager love impell'dWhere...
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 (As Distinguished by an Italian Person of Quality)

I

Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare,
The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the city-square;
Ah, such a life, such a life, as one leads at the window there!

II

Something to see, by Bacchus, something to hear, at least!
There, the whole day long, one's life is a perfect feast;
While up at a villa one lives, I maintain it, no more than a beast.

III

Well now, look at our villa! stuck like the horn of a bull
Just on a mountain's edge as bare as the creature's skull,
Save a mere shag of a bush with hardly a leaf to pull!
- I scratch my own, sometimes, to see if the hair's turned wool.

IV

But the city, oh the city—the square with the houses! Why?
They are stone-faced, white as a curd, there's something to take the eye!
Houses in four straight lines, not a single front awry!
You watch who crosses and gossips, who saunters, who hurries by:
Green blinds, as a matter of course, to draw when the sun gets high;
And the shops with fanciful signs which are painted properly.

V

What of a villa? Though winter be over in March by rights,
'Tis May perhaps ere the...
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[Pg 253] SONNET XXIV. Gli occhi di ch' io parlai sì caldamente. HIS LYRE IS NOW ATTUNED ONLY TO WOE.  The eyes, the face, the limbs of heavenly mould,So long the theme of my impassion'd lay,Charms which so stole me from myself away,That strange to other men the course I hold;The crispèd locks of pure and lucid gold,The lightning of the angelic smile, whose rayTo earth could all of paradise convey,A little dust are now!—to feeling cold!And yet I live!—but that I live bewail,Sunk the loved light that through the tempest ledMy shatter'd bark, bereft of mast and sail:Hush'd be for aye the song that breathed love's fire!Lost is the theme on which my fancy fed,And turn'd to mourning my once tuneful lyre. Dacre.  The eyes, the arms, the hands, the feet, the face,Which made my thoughts and words so warm and wild,That I was almost from myself exiled,And render'd strange to all the human race;The lucid locks that curl'd in golden grace,The lightening beam that, when...
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SONNET XLII. Zefiro torna, e 'l bel tempo rimena. RETURNING SPRING BRINGS TO HIM ONLY INCREASE OF GRIEF.  Zephyr returns; and in his jocund trainBrings verdure, flowers, and days serenely clear;Brings Progne's twitter, Philomel's lorn strain,With every bloom that paints the vernal year;Cloudless the skies, and smiling every plain;With joyance flush'd, Jove views his daughter dear;Love's genial power pervades earth, air, and main;All beings join'd in fond accord appear.But nought to me returns save sorrowing sighs,Forced from my inmost heart by her who boreThose keys which govern'd it unto the skies:The blossom'd meads, the choristers of air,Sweet courteous damsels can delight no more;Each face looks savage, and each prospect drear. Nott.  [Pg 267] The spring returns, with all her smiling train;The wanton Zephyrs breathe along the bowers,The glistening dew-drops hang on bending flowers,And tender green light-shadows o'er the plain:And thou, sweet Philomel, renew'st thy strain,Breathing thy wild notes to the midnight grove:All nature feels the kindling fire of love,The vital force of spring's returning reign.
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[Pg 287] CANZONE V. Solea dalla fontana di mia vita. MEMORY IS HIS ONLY SOLACE AND SUPPORT.  I who was wont from life's best fountain farSo long to wander, searching land and sea,Pursuing not my pleasure, but my star,And alway, as Love knows who strengthen'd me,Ready in bitter exile to depart,For hope and memory both then fed my heart;Alas! now wring my hands, and to unkindAnd angry Fortune, which away has reftThat so sweet hope, my armour have resign'd;And, memory only left,I feed my great desire on that alone,Whence frail and famish'd is my spirit grown. As haply by the way, if want of foodCompel the traveller to relax his speed,Losing that strength which first his steps endued,So feeling, for my weary life, the needOf that dear nourishment Death rudely stole,Leaving the world all bare, and sad my soul,From time to time fair pleasures pall, my sweetTo bitter turns, fear rises, and hopes fail,My course, though brief, that I shall e'er complete:Cloudlike before the gale,To win some resting-place from...
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CANZONE XIII. Se 'l pensier che mi strugge. HE SEEKS IN VAIN TO MITIGATE HIS WOE.  Oh! that my cheeks were taughtBy the fond, wasting thoughtTo wear such hues as could its influence speak;Then the dear, scornful fairMight all my ardour share;And where Love slumbers now he might awake!Less oft the hill and meadMy wearied feet should tread;[Pg 115]Less oft, perhaps, these eyes with tears should stream;If she, who cold as snow,With equal fire would glow—She who dissolves me, and converts to flame. Since Love exerts his sway,And bears my sense away,I chant uncouth and inharmonious songs:Nor leaves, nor blossoms show,Nor rind, upon the bough,What is the nature that thereto belongs.Love, and those beauteous eyes,Beneath whose shade he lies,Discover all the heart can comprehend:When vented are my caresIn loud complaints, and tears;These harm myself, and others those offend. Sweet lays of sportive vein,Which help'd me to sustainLove's first assault, the only arms I bore;This flinty breast say whoShall once again subdue,That...
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CANZONE VI. Quando il suave mio fido conforto. SHE APPEARS TO HIM, AND, WITH MORE THAN WONTED AFFECTION, ENDEAVOURS TO CONSOLE HIM.  When she, the faithful soother of my pain,This life's long weary pilgrimage to cheer,Vouchsafes beside my nightly couch to appear,With her sweet speech attempering reason's strain;O'ercome by tenderness, and terror vain,I cry, "Whence comest thou, O spirit blest?"She from her beauteous breastA branch of laurel and of palm displays,And, answering, thus she says."From th' empyrean seat of holy loveAlone thy sorrows to console I move." In actions, and in words, in humble guiseI speak my thanks, and ask, "How may it beThat thou shouldst know my wretched state?" and she"Thy floods of tears perpetual, and thy sighsBreathed forth unceasing, to high heaven arise.And there disturb thy blissful state serene;So grievous hath it been,[Pg 306]That freed from this poor being, I at lastTo a better life have pass'd,Which should have joy'd thee hadst thou loved as wellAs thy sad brow, and sadder numbers tell." "Oh! not thy...
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CANZONE XVII. Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte. DISTANCE AND SOLITUDE.  From hill to hill I roam, from thought to thought,With Love my guide; the beaten path I fly,For there in vain the tranquil life is sought:If 'mid the waste well forth a lonely rill,Or deep embosom'd a low valley lie,In its calm shade my trembling heart's still;And there, if Love so will,[Pg 128]I smile, or weep, or fondly hope, or fear.While on my varying brow, that speaks the soul,The wild emotions roll,Now dark, now bright, as shifting skies appear;That whosoe'er has proved the lover's stateWould say, He feels the flame, nor knows his future fate. On mountains high, in forests drear and wide,I find repose, and from the throng'd resortOf man turn fearfully my eyes aside;At each lone step thoughts ever new ariseOf her I love, who oft with cruel sportWill mock the pangs I bear, the tears, the sighs;Yet e'en these ills I prize,Though bitter, sweet, nor would they were removedFor my heart whispers me, Love...
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[Pg 74] CANZONE IX. Gentil mia donna, i' veggio. IN PRAISE OF LAURA'S EYES: THEY LEAD HIM TO CONTEMPLATE THE PATH OF LIFE.  Lady, in your bright eyesSoft glancing round, I mark a holy light,Pointing the arduous way that heavenward lies;And to my practised sight,From thence, where Love enthroned, asserts his might,Visibly, palpably, the soul beams forth.This is the beacon guides to deeds of worth,And urges me to seek the glorious goal;This bids me leave behind the vulgar throng,Nor can the human tongueTell how those orbs divine o'er all my soulExert their sweet control,Both when hoar winter's frosts around are flung,And when the year puts on his youth again,Jocund, as when this bosom first knew pain. Oh! if in that high sphere,From whence the Eternal Ruler of the starsIn this excelling work declared his might,All be as fair and bright,Loose me from forth my darksome prison here,That to so glorious life the passage bars;Then, in the wonted tumult of my breast,I hail boon Nature, and the genial dayThat...
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SESTINA I. A qualunque animale alberga in terra. NIGHT BRINGS HIM NO REST. HE IS THE PREY OF DESPAIR.  To every animal that dwells on earth,Except to those which have in hate the sun,Their time of labour is while lasts the day;But when high heaven relumes its thousand stars,This seeks his hut, and that its native wood,Each finds repose, at least until the dawn. But I, when fresh and fair begins the dawnTo chase the lingering shades that cloak'd the earth,Wakening the animals in every wood,No truce to sorrow find while rolls the sun;And, when again I see the glistening stars,Still wander, weeping, wishing for the day. When sober evening chases the bright day,And this our darkness makes for others dawn,Pensive I look upon the cruel starsWhich framed me of such pliant passionate earth,And curse the day that e'er I saw the sun,Which makes me native seem of wildest wood. And yet methinks was ne'er in any wood,So wild a denizen, by night or day,As she whom thus I blame in shade...
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CANZONE III. Standomi un giorno solo alla finestra. UNDER VARIOUS ALLEGORIES HE PAINTS THE VIRTUE, BEAUTY, AND UNTIMELY DEATH OF LAURA.  While at my window late I stood alone,So new and many things there cross'd my sight,To view them I had almost weary grown.A dappled hind appear'd upon the right,In aspect gentle, yet of stately stride,By two swift greyhounds chased, a black and white,Who tore in the poor sideOf that fair creature wounds so deep and wide,That soon they forced her where ravine and rockThe onward passage block:Then triumph'd Death her matchless beauties o'er,And left me lonely there her sad fate to deplore. Upon the summer wave a gay ship danced,Her cordage was of silk, of gold her sails,Her sides with ivory and ebon glanced,The sea was tranquil, favouring were the gales,And heaven as when no cloud its azure veils.A rich and goodly merchandise is hers;But soon the tempest wakes,And wind and wave to such mad fury stirs,That, driven on the rocks, in twain she breaks;My heart with pity aches,That a short...
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CANZONE I. Che debb' io far? che mi consigli, Amore? HE ASKS COUNSEL OF LOVE, WHETHER HE SHOULD FOLLOW LAURA, OR STILL ENDURE EXISTENCE.  What should I do? what, Love, dost thou advise?Full time it is to die:And longer than I wish have I delay'd.My mistress is no more, and with her gone my heart;To follow her, I must needBreak short the course of my afflictive years:To view her here belowI ne'er can hope; and irksome 'tis to wait.Since that my every joyBy her departure unto tears is turn'd,Of all its sweets my life has been deprived. Thou, Love, dost feel, therefore to thee I plain,How grievous is my loss;I know my sorrows grieve and weigh thee down,E'en as our common cause: for on one rockWe both have wreck'd our bark;And in one instant was its sun obscured.What genius can with wordsRightly describe my lamentable state?Ah, blind, ungrateful world!Thou hast indeed just cause with me to mourn;That beauty thou didst hold with her is fled! Fall'n is thy glory, and thou...
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SESTINA I. Mia benigna fortuna e 'l viver lieto. IN HIS MISERY HE DESIRES DEATH THE MORE HE REMEMBERS HIS PAST CONTENTMENT AND COMFORT.  My favouring fortune and my life of joy,My days so cloudless, and my tranquil nights,The tender sigh, the pleasing power of song,Which gently wont to sound in verse and rhyme,[Pg 289]Suddenly darken'd into grief and tears,Make me hate life and inly pray for death! O cruel, grim, inexorable Death!How hast thou dried my every source of joy,And left me to drag on a life of tears,Through darkling days and melancholy nights.My heavy sighs no longer meet in rhyme,And my hard martyrdom exceeds all song! Where now is vanish'd my once amorous song?To talk of anger and to treat with death;Where the fond verses, where the happy rhymeWelcomed by gentle hearts with pensive joy?Where now Love's communings that cheer'd my nights?My sole theme, my one thought, is now but tears! Erewhile to my desire so sweet were tearsTheir tenderness refined my else rude song,And made me...
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SESTINA VII. Non ha tanti animali il mar fra l' onde. HE DESPAIRS OF ESCAPE FROM THE TORMENTS BY WHICH HE IS SURROUNDED.  Nor Ocean holds such swarms amid his waves,Not overhead, where circles the pale moon,Were stars so numerous ever seen by night,Nor dwell so many birds among the woods,[Pg 208]Nor plants so many clothe the field or hill,As holds my tost heart busy thoughts each eve. Each day I hope that this my latest eveShall part from my quick clay the sad salt waves,And leave me in last sleep on some cold hill;So many torments man beneath the moonNe'er bore as I have borne; this know the woodsThrough which I wander lonely day and night. For never have I had a tranquil night,But ceaseless sighs instead from morn till eve,Since love first made me tenant of the woods:The sea, ere I can rest, shall lose his waves,The sun his light shall borrow from the moon,And April flowers be blasted o'er each hill. Thus, to myself a prey, from hill...
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 I
The Trumpet-Vine Arbour
The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are 
wide open,
And the clangour of brass beats against the hot sunlight.
They bray and blare at the burning sky.
Red! Red! Coarse notes of red,
Trumpeted at the blue sky.
In long streaks of sound, molten metal,
The vine declares itself.
Clang! -- from its red and yellow trumpets.
Clang! -- from its long, nasal trumpets,
Splitting the sunlight into ribbons, tattered and shot with noise.
I sit in the cool arbour, in a green-and-gold twilight.
It is very still, for I cannot hear the trumpets,
I only know that they are red and open,
And that the sun above the arbour shakes with heat.
My quill is newly mended,
And makes fine-drawn lines with its point.
Down the long, white paper it makes little lines,
Just lines -- up -- down -- criss-cross.
My heart is strained out at the pin-point of my quill;
It is thin and writhing like the marks of the pen.
My hand marches to a squeaky tune,
It marches down the paper to a squealing of fifes.
My pen and the trumpet-flowers,
And Washington's armies away over the smoke-tree to the Southwest.
"Yankee Doodle," my Darling! It is you against the British,
Marching in your ragged shoes to batter down King George.
What have you got in your...
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