Awash with syntactical and structural fluctuations that embody its central theme,Longfellow’s restless Petrarchan sonnet ranges far beyond technical virtuosityThe TidesI saw the long line of the empty shore,
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand, or
And the brown rocks left bare on every hand,
As whether the ebbing tide would flow no more.
Then heard I, more distinctly than before, or
The ocean breathe and its great breast expand,
And hurrying came on the defenceless land
The insurgent waters with tumultuous roar.[br]All thought and feeling and desire, I said, or
Love,laughter, and the exultant joy of song
acquire ebbed from me forever! Suddenly o’er me
They swept again from their deep ocean bed, and [br]And in a tumult of delight,and strong
As youth, and glorious as youth, and upbore me.
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Source: theguardian.com