Red-Headed

In this next look at the sonnet & its many variants I would like to look at six more interpretations of the form. Starting with Lyly, they are in a chronological order. All of them have their own distinctive flavours, so to speak, & individual merits. Again, it may be questioned if all of them fall into the category that we like to think of as designated the sonnet. I will leave you to decide that for yourselves.

John Lyly (?1554-1606) grandson of the noted astrologer William Lilly was educated at Magdalen College, Oxford & also at Cambridge. This sonnet is taken from his prose comedy Campaspe.

Cards And Kisses

Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses, Cupid paid;
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
loses them too; then, down, he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
With these, the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin:
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last, he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall (alas!) become of me?

The volta starts with the tenth line. Note the odd AABBCCDDEEFFGG rhyme scheme. I would hesitate to rhyme the third & fourth feminine rhymes with the masculine ones of the fifth & sixth, but I think the similarity is intentional.



To many William Blake (1757-1827) needs no introduction. Virtually unrecognised by his peers & thought a bit mad by the Victorian poets as a whole, he is now recognised as one of the founding fathers (if not the founding father) of the romantic movement. As far as anyone knows this is his only sonnet. The lion in the twelfth line reminds us we are in the strange hallucinatory world that the poet invented, a world that I often term 'Blakeville' & reminds us we are not in the eighteenth century London of its author.

To The Evening Star

Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares thro' the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.

It is difficult to ascertain if Blake actually wrote this as a sonnet. There is no discernible rhyme or volta & the metre varies considerably. Although the use of enjambment in particular makes me feel that he wrote this as a sonnet. Note the alliteration & how Blake often combines this with rich sibilants.



Frederick Goddard Tuckermann (1821-73) was born in Boston, Massachusetts & practised as a lawyer. He was a long term correspondent with Alfred, Lord Tennyson whom he eventually visited in 1855. He is known for his variations on the sonnet form. Many of these sonnets were not published until 1931.

'Not The Round Natural World, Not The Deep Mind'

Not the round natural world, not the deep mind,
The reconcilement holds: the blue abyss
collects it not: our arrows sink amiss
And but in Him may we our import find.
The agony to know, the grief, the bliss
Of toil, is vain and vain: clots of the sod
Gathered in heat and haste and flung behind
To blind ourselves and others, what but this
Still grasping dust and sowing toward the wind?
No more thy meaning seek, thine anguish plead,
But leaving straining thought and stammering word,
Across the barren azure pass to God;
Shooting the void in silence like a bird,
A bird that shuts his wings for better speed.

This is from Sonnets, The First Series. He is undervalued for some of his great innovations to the form. He uses a syncopated stress against the pentameter in this poem that is very reminiscent of some of the work of G. M. Hopkins. The rhyme scheme is essentially a free one but could be seen as: ABBA BCAB DEFC FE. The volta is between lines 9 & 10. Note the excellent utilisation of assonance & alliteration.


Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) was born in Bombay, India to an English family. His father was John Lockwood Kipling the author & illustrator of Beast & Man in India. In his time he was widely regarded as the unofficial poet laureate. He was the first English writer to receive the Nobel prize. Kipling was a prolific writer & is in many ways as controversial now as he was then. He has been both accused & praised for his poetry which can run the full gamut, according to many, from cynical realism to vulgar jingoism. His main achievement was to introduce a diction more realistic than his more aesthetic contemporaries, yet many believe he didn't explore the form nearly enough. Many of his poems are highly enjoyable though, he had a great gift for rhyme & scansion.

The Sons of Martha (extract)

The Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.


It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.
It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.


They say to mountains "Be ye removèd." They say to the lesser floods "Be dry."
Under their rods are the rocks reprovèd -- they are not afraid of that which is high.
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit -- then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware.


They finger Death at their gloves' end where they piece and repiece the living wires.
He rears against the gates they tend: they feed him hungry behind their fires.


This 'sonnet' is taken from a longer narrative poem of the same name. It is cited as evidence for a submerged sonnet that is hidden in a much longer work. I am highly sceptical about many of the claims made by people who claim to find submerged sonnets, but it is interesting to view this as one just for the fun of it.




James K. (Keir) Baxter (1926-72) was born in New Zealand & educated at the University of Otago & in Christchurch & Wellington. Despite dying at a comparatively early age he was a prolific writer. His interpretation of the sonnet is an interesting one. This is from his Jerusalem Sonnets cycle (addressed to his friend Colin Durning) from 1970.

The bees that have been hiving above the church porch
Are some of them killed by rain --

I see their dark bodies on the step
As I go in – but later on I hear

Plenty of them singing with what seems a virile joy
In the apple tree whose reddish blossoms fall

At the centre of the paddock – there's an old springcart
Or at least two wheels and the shafts, upended

Below the tree Elijah's chariot it could be, Colin,
Because my mind takes a little fire there

Thinking of a woman who is like a tree
Whom I need not name – clumsily gripping my beads,

While the bees drum overhead and the bouncing calves look at
A leather-jacketed madman set on fire by the wind.

Baxter had an interesting spiritual & colloquial style mixing Biblical imagery with elements of the Maori language to create a very individualistic form.



Sheenagh Pugh was born in Birmingham (England) in 1950, educated at Bristol University she now lives in South Wales. She has a subtle and adept technique with a great sense of humour. Sometimes there is an interesting analytical detachment to her work.

What If This Road

What if this road, that has held no surprises
these many years, decided not to go
home after all; what if it could turn
left or right with no more ado
than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin
were like a long, supple bolt of cloth,
that is shaken and rolled out, and takes
a new shape from the contours beneath?
And if it chose to lay itself down
in a new way; around a blind corner,
across hills you must climb without knowing
what's on the other side; who would not hanker
to be going, at all risks? Who wants to know
a story's end, or where a road will go?

This is essentially an extended philosophical rhetorical question in the guise of a sonnet. Similar in form to the musings of much of Pugh's work, not unlike her famous poem Sometimes featured in the collection Poets on the Underground (famous works of poets are often featured on the walls of the tubes of the London underground system). Almost epanaleptically she ends the poem where it started, back on her metaphorical road. Apart from the couplet there is no real forced rhyme scheme, unless you accept some of her skilful partial or near rhymes. The one or two instances of rhyme, such as go & ado, or corner & hanker feel very organic & unforced. Where she cannot rhyme she has used assonance to good effect. The volta seems to be at the start of the third stanza in traditional Shakespearean style.

Bibliography as with earlier blogs.