Love's Loadstone
I know not if it be the longed-for lightOf her first Maker which the spirit feels;Or if a time-old memory revealsSome other beauty for the heart's delight;Or fame or dreams beget that vision bright,Sweet to the eyes, which through the bosom steals,Leaving I know not what that wounds and heals,And now perchance hath made me weep outright.Be this what this may be, 'tis this I seek:Nor guide have I; nor know I where to findThat burning fire; yet some one seems to lead.This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak;A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind,And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed.
I know not if it be the fancied lightWhich every man or more or less doth feel;Or if the mind and memory revealSome other beauty for the heart's delight;
Or if within the soul the vision brightOf her celestial home once more doth steal,Drawing our better thoughts with pure appealTo the true Good above all mortal sight:
This light I long for and unguided seek;This fire that burns my heart, I cannot find;Nor know the way, though some one seems to lead.
This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak:A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind;And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed.
Words in this poem
- outright adv.
- Immediately; without delay; at once; as, he was killed outright.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Love's Loadstone is in the public domain. This text is taken from Sonnets, Project Gutenberg ebook #10314, the John Addington Symonds translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Michelangelo Buonarroti, Love's Loadstone, in Sonnets (1878), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #10314, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/michelangelo-sonnets/love-s-loadstone.html, id L15182.
Form and metre
Love's Loadstone is 28 lines in 5 stanzas. The commonest rhyme scheme is EFFE, in 2 of the 5 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 25% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBAABBACD-CD- lightA · feelsB · revealsB · delightA · brightA · stealsB · healsB · outrightA · seekC · findD · lead · weakC · mindD · breed
- 2 EFFE lightE · feelF · revealF · delightE
- 3 EFFE brightE · stealF · appealF · sightE
- 4 GH- seekG · findH · lead
- 5 GH- weakG · mindH · breed
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I know not if it be the longed-for light | 10 | ·········· |
| Of her first Maker which the spirit feels; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Or if a time-old memory reveals | 10 | ·····/˘˘˘/ |
| Some other beauty for the heart's delight; | 10 | ·/˘/˘···˘/ |
| Or fame or dreams beget that vision bright, | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| Sweet to the eyes, which through the bosom steals, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Leaving I know not what that wounds and heals, | 10 | /˘········ |
| And now perchance hath made me weep outright. | 10 | ··˘/····// |
| Be this what this may be, 'tis this I seek: | 10 | ·········· |
| Nor guide have I; nor know I where to find | 10 | ·········· |
| That burning fire; yet some one seems to lead. | 10 | ·/˘/······ |
| This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I know not if it be the fancied light | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Which every man or more or less doth feel; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Or if the mind and memory reveal | 10 | ·····/˘˘˘/ |
| Some other beauty for the heart's delight; | 10 | ·/˘/˘···˘/ |
| Or if within the soul the vision bright | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Of her celestial home once more doth steal, | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| Drawing our better thoughts with pure appeal | 10 | /˘//˘···˘/ |
| To the true Good above all mortal sight: | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| This light I long for and unguided seek; | 10 | ·········· |
| This fire that burns my heart, I cannot find; | 10 | ·/·····/˘· |
| Nor know the way, though some one seems to lead. | 10 | ·········· |
| This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak: | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
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