Analysis of Sonnet XXI: Your Words, My Friend
Sir Philip Sidney 1554 (Penshurst, Kent) – 1586 (Zutphen)
Your words, my friend, (right healthful caustics) blame
My young mind marr'd, whom Love doth windlass so,
That mine own writings like bad servants show
My wits, quick in vain thoughts, in virtue lame;
That Plato I read for nought, but if he tame
Such doltish gyres; that to my birth I owe
Nobler desires, lest else that friendly foe,
Great Expectation, were a train of shame.
For since mad March great promise made of me,
If now the May of my years much decline,
What can be hoped my harvest time will be?
Sure you say well, "Your wisdom's golden mine,
Dig deep with learning's spade." Now tell me this,
Hath this world aught so fair as Stella is?
| Scheme | ABBA ABBA CDC DXX |
|---|---|
| Poetic Form | |
| Metre | 111111011 1111111101 1111011101 1110110101 11011111111 111111111 10010111101 101000111 1111110111 1101111101 1111110111 111111101 111111111 1111111101 |
| Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
| Characters | 655 |
| Words | 123 |
| Sentences | 5 |
| Stanzas | 4 |
| Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 3, 3 |
| Lines Amount | 14 |
| Letters per line (avg) | 36 |
| Words per line (avg) | 9 |
| Letters per stanza (avg) | 125 |
| Words per stanza (avg) | 30 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 37 sec read
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