Does anyone know or can anyone figure out the rhyme scheme of John Keats' "Sonnet to Sleep"? I've been puzzling over it forever and can't get it. Here it is:
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if it so please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the Amen ere the poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes:
Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards
Its strength for darkness, borrowing like the mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.
I'd really appreciate any help!
The rhyme scheme is at the bottom of the following page:
Keats takes some liberties with the rhymes, but it follows one of the possible rhyme schemes of a Petrarchan sonnet, I would think, not the English as is mentioned on the Toronto site.
seems like ababcdcdefghgh to me, though some seem to be more eye rhyme than ear rhyme.
'eyes' and 'charities'- I don't think so.
Well, they're not amphisbaenic rhymes, that's for sure.
Keats, being a Londoner, would have likely pronounced 'eye' as a long 'e' sound because of his accent. A similar example is found in Blake's (also raised in London and essentially a contemporary of Keats) "The Tyger", in which 'eye' is rhymed with 'symmetry'.
I know that John Keats
Does remarkable feats,
But he errs when he says
From [www.photoaspects.com] />
[ ... ]
His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;
Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,
And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,
Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:
The sculptur’d dead, on each side, seem to freeze,
Emprison’d in black, purgatorial rails:
Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat’ries,
He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails
To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.
[ ... ]
A casement high and triple-arch’d there was,
All garlanded with carven imag’ries
Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
As are the tiger-moth’s deep-damask’d wings;
And in the midst, ’mong thousand heraldries,
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
A shielded scutcheon blush’d with blood of queens and kings.
Looks like he said it both ways, and pronounced 'device' oddly as well.