Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Aim: What is a sonnet? How are reality and hyperbole illustrated in Sonnets #
18 and 130?
Opener: Take your pulse and try to replicate the rhythm softly for ten beats on
your desk (musical/intrapersonal).
Activity:
Define iamb, iambic pentameter. (verbal)
Read: Sonnet #18 to yourself in the rhythm of your heartbeat. ( rhythmic/
verbal/intrapersonal)
Have a student volunteer read the sonnet aloud (verbal).
Define metaphor, personification, and hyperbole. On the board
write them to correspond to the directions below ( verbal).
Together as class, list all the words we can think of that mean
smell.
Discuss reek. Tell students that as English evolved these
words have taken on positive and negative connotations, but
originally they all pretty much meant smell. Define dun
( line 3).
Read Sonnet #130--- to the rhythm of your heart beat.
Do all that we did with Sonnet #18.
Use the semantic map to plot the information
Final Summary: (verbal/interpersonal/intrapersonal)
Share our findings and discuss meaning. Which poem is more honest? Which
do you prefer? Which is realistic? Which is filled with hyperbole? What is a
sonnet? --a 14-line poem written in iambic pentameter with an
ABABCDCDEFEFGG rhyme scheme---often, but not always about love.
Sonnet #18 Sonnet #130
Shall I compare thee to a My mistress eyes are nothing
a summers day/ Thou art more like the sun;/ Coral is far more
lovely and more temperate (1-2). red than her lips red (1-2).
Topi
c
Message
Literary Techniques
Metaphor Metaphor
Hyperbole Hyperbole
Personification Personification
Lines
Shakespearean
Sonnet
Meter
Rhyme
Scheme
SONNET 18
SONNET 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.