Analysis of John Donne Holy Sonnet (just out of the toaster).
Douglas Blair 1951 (London)
Blessed so unimagined
A child of God that’s me.
And dirt piled up, a bitter cup.
Made right at His sore Tree.
The Lord, foreseeing everything
And loving to the most.
Transfigured me and washed up
By means of Holy Ghost.
A wretch, much studied.
But hiding
Hiding in those books.
From censure,
Wrath, ignominy
And tons of dirty looks.
| Scheme | ABCBDECEFDGHBG |
|---|---|
| Poetic Form | |
| Metre | 11010 011111 01110101 111111 0101010 010101 11011 111101 01110 110 10011 110 1100 011101 |
| Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
| Characters | 336 |
| Words | 69 |
| Sentences | 8 |
| Stanzas | 1 |
| Stanza Lengths | 14 |
| Lines Amount | 14 |
| Letters per line (avg) | 19 |
| Words per line (avg) | 4 |
| Letters per stanza (avg) | 259 |
| Words per stanza (avg) | 60 |
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Written on January 23, 2023
Submitted by dougb.72572 on January 23, 2023
Modified by dougb.72572 on January 23, 2023
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"John Donne Holy Sonnet (just out of the toaster)." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/149177/john-donne-holy-sonnet-%28just-out-of-the-toaster%29.>.
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