Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
As if increase of appetite had grown
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
My father’s brother, but no more like my father
With which she follow’d my poor father’s body,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
It is not nor it cannot come to good:
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
Would have mourn’d longer—married with my uncle,
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
Like Niobe, all tears:—why she, even she—
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Fie on’t! ah fie! ’tis an unweeded garden,
Than I to Hercules: within a month:
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Let me not think on’t—Frailty, thy name is woman!—
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
A little month; or ere those shoes were old
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month—
His canon ’gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
🎉 Congratulations! 🎉
You've successfully reconstructed the poem! Your understanding of poetry and attention to detail is impressive.
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d His canon ’gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on’t! ah fie! ’tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: and yet, within a month— Let me not think on’t—Frailty, thy name is woman!— A little month; or ere those shoes were old With which she follow’d my poor father’s body, Like Niobe, all tears:—why she, even she— O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn’d longer—married with my uncle, My father’s brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month: Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not nor it cannot come to good: But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.