Scorn Not The Sonnet
Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land To struggle through dark ways; and, when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strainsalas, too few!
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"Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,..."
William Wordsworth's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Scorn Not The Sonnet"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...