Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ever wondered what happens to powerful rulers after they die? Shelley's Ozymandias shows us through the story of a crumbling statue in the desert. The poem uses a clever structure where Shelley distances himself by saying "I met a traveller" - this way, he can criticise powerful leaders without getting into trouble with the British monarchy.

The irony is brilliant: Ozymandias boasts "Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" but there's nothing left except broken stone. Shelley uses negative language throughout to attack the ruler, with harsh sounds like "cold command" emphasising the king's brutal nature.

The poem's a Petrarchan sonnet with 14 lines and a volta (turning point) at line 9, though Shelley doesn't follow regular rhyme schemes. The alliteration in "lone and level" emphasises the emptiness where the great empire once stood.

Key insight: The "hand that mocked" is a clever pun - the sculptor both copied and made fun of the tyrant, showing how art can outlast power.

London by William Blake

Blake takes you on a dark walking tour through 18th-century London, and what he sees is grim. The word "chartered" appears twice - it means "owned," which Blake uses as a metaphor to show how even natural things like the Thames are controlled by the wealthy.

The repetition of "marks" has double meaning - Blake sees the signs of poverty, but these are also physical marks that London's harsh life leaves on people's faces. He uses "mind-forged manacles" to describe how people are trapped not just physically, but mentally by their circumstances.

Blake attacks powerful institutions through vivid imagery: chimney-sweeps (usually young boys) represent child labour, whilst soldiers' blood runs down palace walls. The final stanza's oxymoron "marriage hearse" shows how poverty and prostitution destroy even sacred relationships.

The ABAB rhyme scheme reflects the monotonous, unrelenting narrative of Blake's journey through the city's streets.

Remember: This isn't just about old London - Blake's criticising how the poor suffer whilst the rich benefit, themes that still resonate today.

Extract from The Prelude by William Wordsworth

You'll love how this poem starts - a peaceful summer evening, a young Wordsworth "borrowing" a boat for a sneaky row. He knows it's wrong but enjoys the "troubled pleasure" of his "act of stealth." The tone begins tranquil and beautiful, with nature seeming gentle and welcoming.

Everything changes at the volta when a massive mountain peak appears. Wordsworth's confident, swan-like rowing becomes panicked and erratic as the mountain seems to chase him with "voluntary power instinct." The repetition of "huge" shows how his usual eloquence disappears - he's literally lost for words.

The contrast is striking: whilst the mountain remains calm and powerful, Wordsworth becomes frightened and loses control. The alliteration of "l" sounds helps the poem flow like water, then becomes choppy when fear takes over.

Key point: This moment represents Wordsworth's first real encounter with nature's sublime power - beautiful but terrifying.

The Prelude - Aftermath

The impact of that mountain encounter haunts Wordsworth for days. His brain works with "dim and undetermined sense" - the vague language shows he can't quite understand what he's experienced. This isn't unusual; sometimes powerful experiences are hard to put into words.

"Grave and serious mood" has double meaning - he's thoughtful, but "grave" also reminds us of mortality. The experience has changed how he sees everything. Notice the repetition of negatives: "No familiar shapes... no pleasant images... no colours" - his life after this trauma is defined by absence.

The "huge and mighty forms" now plague both his days and dreams constantly. The contrast between day and dreams shows there's no escape from his fears. What started as a pleasant evening row has become a nightmare that follows him everywhere.

This final section shows how powerful experiences with nature can fundamentally change how we see the world around us.

Think about it: Sometimes the most important moments in our lives are the ones that initially frighten or unsettle us.

My Last Duchess by Robert Browning

Meet one of literature's most chilling characters - the Duke of Ferrara, showing off a painting of his dead wife. Right from "That's my last Duchess," he sounds like he owns her, not just her portrait. The sinister tone is set immediately, and the enjambment shows he doesn't give his visitor time to speak - classic controlling behaviour.

The Duke is furious that his wife smiled at everyone equally. He believes she should have valued his "nine-hundred-years-old name" above simple pleasures like sunsets or cherries. The rhetorical questions and sibilance reveal his growing irritation as he remembers her friendly nature.

Notice how he's "justifying himself" - he was too proud to correct her behaviour directly, saying "I choose never to stoop." The chilling climax comes with "I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together" - a cold euphemism for murder.

Creepy detail: He's already arranging his next marriage whilst discussing his dead wife, showing he sees women as possessions to collect.

My Last Duchess - The Duke's Psychology

The Duke's arrogance becomes even clearer as he continues. He expected his wife to rank everyone differently, giving him special treatment because of his noble status. The parenthesis (which I have not) shows false modesty - he clearly loves talking and believes himself superior to everyone.

His jealousy is paranoid: "who passed without much the same smile?" suggests he suspected her of being unfaithful simply for being friendly. The sibilance throughout emphasises his lingering anger and suspicious nature.

The poem ends with him casually showing off another possession - a bronze Neptune "taming a sea-horse." This isn't coincidental; like Neptune controlling the sea-horse, the Duke controls people. The alliteration shows how easily he changes topics, treating murder and art with equal casualness.

Written as a dramatic monologue, we only hear the Duke's voice, making his self-revelation even more disturbing as he unknowingly exposes his own monstrous nature.

Literary technique: Browning never directly tells us the Duke is evil - instead, he lets the character condemn himself through his own words.

The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson

This poem thunders with the rhythm of galloping horses, immediately pulling you into one of history's most famous military disasters. The repetition of "half a league" and "six hundred" creates unity, presenting the soldiers as one determined group with a shared purpose.

Despite knowing "someone had blundered," the soldiers follow orders without question. The famous lines "Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die" show their loyalty and sense of duty, even facing certain death. The anaphora emphasises how they follow orders despite the obvious danger.

"Into the valley of Death" and "mouth of Hell" use biblical imagery to show the soldiers' sacrifice. The onomatopoeia "Volley'd and thunder'd" replicates gunfire sounds, whilst "Flash'd all their sabres bare" shows their bravery in fighting with swords against cannons.

The sibilance in "Sabre-stroke/Shatter'd and sunder'd" sounds vicious, highlighting the violence of battle.

Historical context: This celebrates the soldiers' bravery whilst subtly criticising the officers whose mistakes led to this disaster.

Exposure by Wilfred Owen

Owen's "Exposure" shows you something deadlier than enemy bullets - the weather itself. "Our brains ache" immediately shares the soldiers' pain, whilst the ellipses hint at endless, empty waiting where "nothing happens" - yet everything is slowly killing them.

Nature becomes the enemy, personified as attacking the soldiers more effectively than Germans ever could. The "merciless iced east winds that knive us" use violent language usually reserved for human enemies. Dawn is described as "massing her melancholy army," making even hope seem threatening.

The rhetorical questions "What are we doing here?" and "Is it that we are dying?" express the soldiers' growing despair. Owen uses half-rhymes to connect their current suffering with dreams of home, showing how war has corrupted even their memories.

The sibilance in "Successive flights of bullets" mimics whistling sounds, but Owen tells us the "air that shudders black with snow" is more deadly than gunfire.

Owen's message: Nature, not just human conflict, becomes the real killer in this war's trenches.

Exposure - Death and Despair

Owen's soldiers imagine returning home as ghosts, finding their houses closed against them. The caesura creates divisions in each line, reflecting how they're shut out from their own lives. Even in imagination, they can't find comfort or belonging.

The soldiers believe their sacrifice preserves life at home: "not otherwise can kind fires burn." But Owen questions whether "God's invincible spring" and divine love are worth their suffering. The phrase "For love of God seems dying" suggests either their faith is disappearing, or God's love for them has died.

The final stanza's vivid imagery shows what exposure does to bodies: "frost will fasten on this mud and us, Shrivelling many hands." The metaphor "All their eyes are ice" describes both living and dead men, showing how the cold has overpowered everyone.

The poem ends where it began: "But nothing happens" - suggesting even death doesn't change the endless, meaningless suffering.

Powerful truth: Owen shows how war's real horror isn't just battle, but the slow destruction of hope and humanity.

Storm on the Island by Seamus Heaney

"We are prepared" sounds confident, but Heaney immediately reveals the islanders' vulnerability. Their houses are built "squat" and low, whilst the "wizened earth" produces nothing - even nature seems hostile. The repetition of "we" makes you feel part of this isolated community.

There's gentle sarcasm when Heaney notes there are "no stacks or stooks that can be lost" - because nothing grows there anyway. The absence of trees means no shelter, but also no "tragic chorus" of wind through leaves that might provide familiar, comforting sounds.

The sea initially seems like "company, exploding comfortably," but when the storm hits, it "spits like a tame cat" - showing how familiar things become frightening. The assonance and sibilance imitate the sea's hissing and spitting sounds.

The final line is brilliant: "Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear." The storm is invisible air, yet it's more terrifying than any solid enemy.

Deep insight: Sometimes our greatest fears come from things we can't see or touch - the power of the invisible and unknown.