The Aeronaut to His Lady

I’ve been looking for this pseudo-sonnet by John Ciardi for ages, and discovered this morning that the reason I hadn’t found it until now was because it’s not by John Ciardi. It’s by Frank Sidgwick. I first read it in a book written by John Ciardi, which was why I had made the connection. Now that I’ve found it, I share it with you.

I don’t know much about Frank Sidgwick; Wikipedia doesn’t even have an entry for him! If you know something about him and feel like editing Wikipedia, you can create the entry for him. Here’s something to start with: he wrote this poem. I call it a “pseudo-sonnet” because although it has resemblance to the sonnet form, particularly in the rhyme scheme, it obviously lacks the iambic pentameter of the sonnet form, since there’s only one word per line. I still think it’s pretty cool.

The Aeronaut to His Lady
(Frank Sidgwick, 19??)

“I
      Through
      Blue
Sky

Fly
      To
      You.
Why?

Sweet
      Love
Feet
      Move

            So
            Slow!”

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One Response to The Aeronaut to His Lady

  1. Al says:

    I haled me a woman from the street,
    Shameless, but, oh, so fair!
    I bade her sit in the model’s seat
    And I painted her sitting there.

    I hid all trace of her heart unclean;
    I painted a babe at her breast;
    I painted her as she might have been
    If the Worst had been the Best.

    She laughed at my picture and went away.
    Then came, with a knowing nod,
    A connoisseur, and I heard him say;
    “’Tis Mary, the Mother of God.?

    So I painted a halo round her hair,
    And I sold her and took my fee,
    And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire,
    Where you and all may see.