Sonnet XIII
When I should be asleep to mine own voiceIn telling thee how much thy love’s my dream,I find me listening to myself, the noiseOf my words othered in my hearing them.Yet wonder not: this is the poet’s soul.I could not tell thee well of how I love,Loved I not less by knowing it, were allMy self my love and no thought love to prove.What consciousness makes more by consciousness,It makes less, for it makes it less itself,My sense of love could not my love rich-dressDid it not for it spend love’s own love-pelf.Poet’s love’s this (as in these words I prove thee):I love my love for thee more than I love thee.
About this text
Sonnet XIII is in the public domain. This text is taken from 35 Sonnets, Project Gutenberg ebook #19978; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Fernando Pessoa, Sonnet XIII, in 35 Sonnets (1918), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #19978, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/pessoa-35-sonnets/sonnet-xiii.html, id L23642.
Form and metre
Sonnet XIII is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABABCDCDEFEFGG, the pattern of the English sonnet. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 81%).
See other English sonnets, 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 ABABCDCDEFEFGG voiceA · dreamB · noiseA · themB · soulC · loveD · allC · proveD · consciousnessE · itselfF · dressE · pelfF · theeG · theeG
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 |
|---|---|---|
| When I should be asleep to mine own voice | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| In telling thee how much thy love’s my dream, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| I find me listening to myself, the noise | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| Of my words othered in my hearing them. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Yet wonder not: this is the poet’s soul. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| I could not tell thee well of how I love, | 10 | ·········· |
| Loved I not less by knowing it, were all | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| My self my love and no thought love to prove. | 10 | ·········· |
| What consciousness makes more by consciousness, | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘˘ |
| It makes less, for it makes it less itself, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| My sense of love could not my love rich-dress | 10 | ·········· |
| Did it not for it spend love’s own love-pelf. | 10 | ·········· |
| Poet’s love’s this (as in these words I prove thee): | 11 | /˘········· |
| I love my love for thee more than I love thee. | 11 | ··········· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.