Morn Renders His Grief More Poignant
When from the heavens I see Aurora beam,With rosy-tinctured cheek and golden hair,Love bids my face the hue of sadness wear:"There Laura dwells!" I with a sigh exclaim.Thou knowest well the hour that shall redeem,Happy Tithonus, thy much-valued fair;But not to her I love can I repair,Till death extinguishes this vital flame.Yet need'st thou not thy separation mourn;Certain at evening's close is the returnOf her, who doth not thy hoar locks despise;But my nights sad, my days are render'd drear,By her, who bore my thoughts to yonder skies,And only a remember'd name left here.
Words in this poem
- aurora n.
- The rising light of the morning; the dawn of day; the redness of the sky just before the sun rises. [L. aurora, for ausosa, akin to Gr. ushas, and E. east.]
- sadness n.
- Heaviness; firmness.
- laura n.
- A number of hermitages or cells in the same neighborhood occupied by anchorites who were under the same superior. C. Kingsley.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- hoar v. t.
- To become moldy or musty. [AS. harian to grow gray.]
- despise v. t.
- To look down upon with disfavor or contempt; to contemn; to scorn; to disdain; to have a low opinion or contemptuous dislike of. [OF. despis-, in some forms of despire to despise, fr. L. despicere, despectum, to look down upon, despise; de- + spicere, specere, to look. See Spy, and cf. Des]
- drear n.
- Sadness; dismalness.
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Morn Renders His Grief More Poignant is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, the various hands 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: Petrarch, Morn Renders His Grief More Poignant, in The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems (1859), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/petrarch-sonnets/morn-renders-his-grief-more-poignant.html, id L14874.
Form and metre
Morn Renders His Grief More Poignant is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABBAABBACDCDCD, the pattern of the Italian sonnet. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 7% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other Italian 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 ABBAABBACDCDCD beamA · hairB · wearB · exclaimA · redeemA · fairB · repairB · flameA · mournC · returnD · despiseC · drearD · skiesC · hereD
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 from the heavens I see Aurora beam, | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| With rosy-tinctured cheek and golden hair, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Love bids my face the hue of sadness wear: | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| "There Laura dwells!" I with a sigh exclaim. | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Thou knowest well the hour that shall redeem, | 10 | ·/˘··/··˘/ |
| Happy Tithonus, thy much-valued fair; | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| But not to her I love can I repair, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Till death extinguishes this vital flame. | 10 | ··˘/˘˘·/˘· |
| Yet need'st thou not thy separation mourn; | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Certain at evening's close is the return | 10 | /˘·/˘···˘/ |
| Of her, who doth not thy hoar locks despise; | 10 | ········˘/ |
| But my nights sad, my days are render'd drear, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| By her, who bore my thoughts to yonder skies, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And only a remember'd name left here. | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘··· |
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.