Poem that contains a series of events using poeticdevices such as rhythm, rhyme, compact language, and sound.› Rhythm: refers to the pattern of sounds made by varying the stressed and unstressed syllables in a poem.› Five basic rhythms in English poetry: 1. Iambic 2. Trochaic 3. Spondaic 4. Anapestic 5. Dactylic
Elements found in narrative poetry:1. characterization: features and traits that form the individual nature of some person or thing2. setting: the surroundings, environment, or time frame where story takes place3. conflict: collision or disagreement; be contradictory, at variance, or in opposition; clash4. plot: (storyline) the plan, scheme, or main story of a literary or dramatic work, as a play, novel, or short story. What happens in the story.
Once upon a midnight dreary,while I pondered, weak and And the silken, sad, uncertainweary, rustling of each purple curtainOver many a quaint and curious Thrilled me — filled me withvolume of forgotten lore fantastic terrors never felt before;While I nodded, nearly napping, So that now, to still the beating ofsuddenly there came a tapping, my heart, I stood repeatingAs of some one gently rapping, "Tis some visiter entreatingrapping at my chamber door. entrance at my chamber door"Tis some visiter," I muttered, Some late visiter entreating"tapping at my chamber door entrance at my chamber door;Only this and nothing more." This it is and nothing more."Ah, distinctly I remember it was in Presently my soul grew stronger;the bleak December; hesitating then no longer,And each separate dying ember "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly yourwrought its ghost upon the floor. forgiveness I implore;Eagerly I wished the morrow; — But the fact is I was napping, andvainly I had sought to borrow so gently you came rapping,From my books surcease of sorrow And so faintly you came tapping,— sorrow for the lost Lenore tapping at my chamber door,For the rare and radiant maiden That I scarce was sure I heard you"whom the angels name Lenore — here I opened wide the door...Nameless here for evermore.
I place my tiny hand in his Three time’s a charm, he says.as we walk to Papa’s Fishing Hole. He casts.I hand him a wiggling night crawler A strike.fighting for his life. We turn the crank together.The deadly hook squishes The fish jumps from the waterthrough the worm’s head, and his colors form a rainbowand I watch the brown guts ooze out. as he arches his body above thePapa throws the pole’s long arm back reeds.and then forward. My Papa handles himThe line lands in a merky spot with the skill of a masteralong the reedy shore. as I stop helping to watch him work.Now I get to reel it in. A stiff jerk, a quick reel, a stiff jerk again.Nothing yet, he says. The fish doesn’t have a chance, I yell.He casts again. I reel it in. I know. I know. I know, he says.Still nothing. Elisabeth D. Babin
The lyric poet addresses the reader directly,portraying his or her own feeling, state of mind, andperceptions. Lyric poetry does not tell a story whichportrays characters and actions. The term lyric isreferred to as the words to a song. In lyric poetry,the mood is musical and emotional.
Sonnet number 18 Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more Dying lovely and more temperate.I heard a fly buzz when I died; Rough winds do shake theThe stillness round my form darling buds of May, AndWas like the stillness in the air summers lease hath all tooBetween the heaves of storm. short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, Emily Dickinson And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or natures changing course untrimmed. William Shakespeare
Less concerned with expressingfeeling than with analyzing it,Metaphysical poetry is marked bymetaphors drawing sometimes forcedparallels between apparently dissimilarideas or things, complex and subtlethought, frequent use of paradox, and adramatic directness of language, therhythm of which derives from livingspeech.
The characteristics of Romantic poetryare that it emphasizes feeling, intuition andimagination to a point of irrationalization.An interesting schematic explanation callsromanticism the predominance ofimagination over reason and formal rules(classicism) and over the sense of fact orthe actual (realism). It is basically aphilosophical, literary, artistic and culturalera which began in the mid/late-18thcentury.
I dreamed that, as I wandered by theway,Bare Winter suddenly was changed toSpring,And gentle odours led my steps astray,Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Percy Bysshe Shelley
Limerick is often comical, nonsensical, and sometimeseven lewd. Composed of five lines, the limerick adheres toa strict rhyme scheme and bouncy rhythm, making it easyto memorize. Typically, the first two lines rhyme with eachother, the third and fourth rhyme together, and the fifthline either repeats the first line or rhymes with it. Thelimericks anapestic rhythm is created by an accentualpattern that contains many sets of double weakly-stressedsyllables. The pattern can be illustrated with dashesdenoting weak syllables, and back-slashes for stresses: 1) - / - - / - - / 2) - / - - / - - / 3) - / - - / 4) - / - - / 5) - / - - / - - /
There was an Old Man with a beard,Who said, "It is just as I feared!Two Owls and a Hen,Four Larks and a Wren,Have all built their nests in my beard!" Edward Lear
From the Italian, sonetto, which means "alittle sound or song," the sonnet is a lyricalpoem of fourteen lines, written in iambicpentameter, and following one oranother of several set rhyme schemes.Two sonnet forms provide the modelsfrom which all other sonnets are formed:the Petrarchan (or Italian) and theShakespearean (or English) forms.
That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruind choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou seest the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Deaths second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou seest the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expireConsumed with that which it was nourishd by.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love morestrong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long. William Shakespeare
The first and most common sonnet is thePetrarchan, or Italian. The Petrarchan sonnet is dividedinto two stanzas, the octave (the first eight lines) followedby the answering sestet (the final six lines). The rhymescheme, abba, abba, cdecde or cdcdcd, is suited for therhyme-rich Italian language. Since the Petrarchan presentsan argument, observation, question, or some otheranswerable charge in the octave, a turn, or volta, occursbetween the eighth and ninth lines. This turn marks a shiftin the direction of the foregoing argument or narrative,turning the sestet into the vehicle for thecounterargument, clarification, or whatever answer theoctave demands.
The secondmajor type of sonnet, theShakespearean, orEnglish sonnet, containsthree quatrains and acouplet. The rhymescheme: abab, cdcd,efef, gg. The coupletplays a key role, usuallyarriving in the form of aconclusion,amplification, of theprevious three stanzas.
If a line has 10 syllables and in iambicunits, then the line has 5 feet. This specificrhythm is called “iambic pentameter,”and was popularized by Shakespeare.Shakespeare uses changes in rhythm topoint out something to the reader.
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 damasked, red and white,But no such roses see I in her cheeks;And in some perfumes is there more delightThan in the breath that from my mistress reeks.I love to hear her speak, yet well I knowThat music hath a far more pleasing sound;I grant I never saw a goddess go;My mistress when she walks treads on theground.And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rareAs any she belied with false compare. William Shakespeare
The Italian Form The English FormA AB Octave B QuatrainB AA BA CB D QuatrainB CA DC C C ED D D Sestet F QuatrainE C D E FC C C GD D D G CoupletE C D
A ballad is a rhyming narrative poem written in a formthat can be sung to music. A typical ballad is a plot-drivensong, with one or more characters hurriedly unfurling eventsleading to a dramatic conclusion. A ballad does not tell thereader what’s happening, but rather shows the reader what’shappening, describing each crucial moment in the trail ofevents. Their subject matter dealt with religious themes, love,tragedy, domestic crimes, and sometimes even politicalpropaganda. To convey that sense of emotional urgency,the ballad is often constructed in quatrain stanzas, with therhyme scheme abcb.
The Maiden caught me in the Wild,(a)Where I was dancing merrily;(b)She put me into her Cabinet,(c)And Lockd me up with a golden key.(b) William Blake
It is an ancient marinerAnd he stoppeth one of three.--"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,Now wherefore stoppest thou me?The bridegrooms doors are opened wide,And I am next of kin;The guests are met, the feast is set:Mayst hear the merry din."He holds him with his skinny hand,"There was a ship," quoth he."Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!"Eftsoons his hand dropped he.He holds him with his glittering eye--The wedding-guest stood still,And listens like a three-years child:The mariner hath his will.
A couplet is a poem made oftwo lines of rhyming poetry that usuallyhave the same meter. There are no rulesabout length or rhythm. Two words thatrhyme can be called a couplet.
Each line in a couplet has an endrhyme. We mark end rhymes alphabeticallyto keep track of the rhyming pattern. My boyfriend has eyes like a cat. He always wears a hat. The words cat and hat are endrhymes. We use the letter "A" to mark therhyme pattern. His hair looks like burnt hay. He loves to fish at the bay. If we join the couplets together thewords hay and bay would use the letter “B”.
A dramatic monologue is apoem that shares many features with aspeech from a play: one person speaks,and in that speech there are clues tohis/her character, the character of theimplied person or people that s/he isspeaking to, the situation in which it isspoken and the story that has led to thissituation.
Spiked breast to spiked breast opposing! LOQUITUR: En Bertrans de Born. Better one hours stour than a years peace Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he With fat boards, bawds, wine and frail music! was a stirrer up of strife. Bah! theres no wine like the bloods crimson! Eccovi! IV Judge ye! And I love to see the sun rise blood-crimson. Have I dug him up again? And I watch his spears through the dark clash The scene is at his castle, Altaforte. "Papiols" is And it fills all my heart with rejoicing his jongleur. "The Leopard," the device of And pries wide my mouth with fast music Richard Coeur de Lion. When I see him so scorn and defy peace, I His lone might gainst all darkness opposing. Damn it all! all this our South stinks peace. V You whoreson dog, Papiols, come! Lets to The man who fears war and squats opposing music! My words for stour, hath no blood of crimson I have no life save when the swords clash. But is fit only to rot in womanish peace But ah! when I see the standards gold, vair, Far from where worths won and the swordsSestina purple, opposing clashAltaforte And the broad fields beneath them turn For the death of such sluts I go rejoicing; crimson, Yea, I fill all the air with my music. Then howls my heart nigh mad with rejoicing. VI II Papiols, Papiols, to the music! In hot summer have I great rejoicing Theres no sound like to swords swords When the tempests kill the earths foul peace, opposing, And the lightnings from black heavn flash No cry like the battles rejoicing crimson, When our elbows and swords drip the crimson And the fierce thunders roar me their music And our charges gainst "The Leopards" rush And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, clash. opposing, May God damn for ever all who cry "Peace!" And through all the riven skies Gods swords VII clash. And let the music of the swords make them III crimson! Hell grant soon we hear again the swords Hell grant soon we hear again the swords clash! clash! And the shrill neighs of destriers in battle Hell blot black for always the thought rejoicing, "Peace!" Ezra Pound
The elegy is traditionally written inresponse to the death of a person orgroup. The elements of a elegy mirrorthree stages of loss. First, there is alament, where the speaker expressesgrief and sorrow, then praise andadmiration of the idealized dead, andfinally consolation and solace.
He disappeared in the dead of winter: The You were silly like us; your gift survived it brooks were frozen, the airports almost all: The parish of rich women, physical deserted, The snow disfigured the public decay, Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you statues; The mercury sank in the mouth of into poetry. Now Ireland has her the dying day. What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark madness and her weather still, For cold day. Far from his illness The wolves poetry makes nothing happen: it ran on through the evergreen forests, The survives In the valley of its making peasant river was untempted by the where executives Would never want to fashionable quays; By mourning tongues tamper, flows on south From ranches of The death of the poet was kept from his isolation and the busy griefs, Raw townsW.H. poems. But for him it was his last afternoon that we believe and die in; it survives, AAuden’s as himself, An afternoon of nurses and way of happening, a mouth. rumours; The provinces of his body revolted, The squares of his mind wereIn empty, Silence invaded the suburbs, The Earth, receive an honoured guest: current of his feeling failed; he became his William Yeats is laid to rest. Let the IrishMemory vessel lie Emptied of its poetry. In the admirers. Now he is scattered among aof W. B. hundred cities And wholly given over to nightmare of the dark All the dogs ofYeats unfamiliar affections, To find his happiness Europe bark, And the living nations in another kind of wood And be punished wait, Each sequestered in its hate; under a foreign code of conscience. The Intellectual disgrace Stares from every words of a dead man Are modified in the human face, And the seas of pity lie guts of the living. But in the importance Locked and frozen in each eye. Follow, and noise of to-morrow When the brokers poet, follow right To the bottom of the are roaring like beasts on the floor of the night, With your unconstraining voice Bourse, And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed, And Still persuade us to rejoice. With the each in the cell of himself is almost farming of a verse Make a vineyard of convinced of his freedom, A few the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In thousand will think of this day As one thinks a rapture of distress. In the deserts of of a day when one did something slightly the heart Let the healing fountains unusual. What instruments we have agree start, In the prison of his days Teach the The day of his death was a dark cold day. free man how to praise.
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it we drink you at at noon in the morning we at night drink you at sundown we drink it and drink it we drink and we drink you we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies a man lives in the house your golden hair unconfined Margarete A man lives in the house he plays with the your ashen hair Sulamith he plays with the serpents he writes serpents he writes when dusk falls to Germany your He calls out more sweetly play death death is golden hair Margarete a master from Germany he writes it ans steps out of doors and the he calls out more darkly now stroke your stars are flashing he whistles his pack out strings then as smoke you will rise into air he whistles his Jews out in earth has them dig then a grave you will have in the clouds thereFugue of for a grave one lies unconfinedDeath he commands us strike up for the dance Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night we drink you at noon death is a master fromPaul Celan we drink you in the morning at noon we drink Germany you at sundown we drink you at sundown and in the morning we drink and we drink you we drink and we drink you A man lives in the house he plays with the death is a master from Germany his eyes are serpents he writes blue he writes when dusk falls to Germany your he strikes you with leaden bullets his aim is golden hair Margarete true your ashen hair Sulamith we dig a grave in a man lives in the house your golden hair the breezes there one lies unconfined Margarete he sets his pack on to us he grants us a grave He calls out jab deeper into the earth you lot in the air you others sing now and play He plays with the serpents and daydreams he grabs at teh iron in his belt he waves it his death is a master from Germany eyes are blue jab deper you lot with your spades you others your golden hair Margarete play on for the dance your ashen hair Shulamith
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weatherd every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.OCaptain! O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10My For you bouquets and ribbond wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;Captain! For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head;Walt It is some dream that on the deck,Whitman Youve fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchord safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20 Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
"Ode" comes from the Greek aeidein,meaning to sing or chant, and belongs tothe tradition of lyric poetry. The ode can bea formal address to an event, a person, or athing not present. There are three typicaltypes of odes: › Pindaric › Horatian › Irregular
Pindaric odes were performedwith a chorus and dancers, and oftencomposed to celebrate athleticvictories. They contain a formal opening,or strophe, of complex metrical structure,followed by an antistrophe, which mirrorsthe opening, and an epode, the finalclosing section of a different length andcomposed with a different metricalstructure.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,The earth, and every common sightTo me did seemApparelled in celestial light,The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;--Turn wheresoeer I may,By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more. William Wordsworth
The Horatian ode, is generallymore tranquil and contemplative thanthe Pindaric ode. Less formal, lessceremonious, and better suited to quietreading than theatrical production, theHoratian ode typically uses a regular,recurrent stanza pattern.
Row after row with strict impunityThe headstones yield their names to theelement,The wind whirrs without recollection;In the riven troughs the splayed leavesPile up, of nature the casual sacrament Tothe seasonal eternity of death;Then driven by the fierce scrutinyOf heaven to their election in the vastbreath, They sough the rumour of mortality. Allen Tate
The Irregular ode has employedall manner of formal possibilities, whileoften retaining the tone and thematicelements of the classical ode.
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shedThou still unravished bride of quietness, Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unweari-ed,Thou foster child of silence and slow time, Forever piping songs forever new;Sylvan historian, who canst thus express More happy love! more happy, happy love!A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy Forever panting, and forever young; All breathing human passion far above,shape That leaves a heart high-sorrowful andOf deities or mortals, or of both, cloyed,In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.What men or gods are these? What maidensloath? Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest,What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? Leadst thou that heifer lowing at the skies,What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? And all her silken flanks with garlands dressed? What little town by river or sea shore,Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, And, little town, thy streets for evermorePipe to the spirit dities of no tone. Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can eer return.Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst notleave O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with bredeThy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Of marble men and maidens overwrought,Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, With forest branches and the trodden weed;Though winning near the goal---yet, do not Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral!grieve; When old age shall this generation waste,She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woebliss Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thouForever wilt thou love, and she be fair! sayst, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty"---that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. John Keats
America, you ode for reality!Give back the people you took.Let the sun shine againon the four corners of the worldyou thought of first but do notown, or keep like a convenience.People are your own word, youinvented that locus and term.Here, you said and say, iswhere we are. Give backwhat we are, these people you made,us, and nowhere but you to be. Robert Creeley
Blank Verse is Poetry that is written inunrhymed iambic pentameter. Blank verse is oftenunobtrusive and the iambic pentameter form oftenresembles the rhythms of ordinary speech.
Excerpt from MacbethTomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time;And all our yesterdays have lighted foolsThe way to dusty death. Out, out, briefcandle!Lifes but a walking shadow, a poor playerThat struts and frets his hour upon the stageAnd then is heard no more: it is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing. William Shakespeare The Ball Poem What is the boy now, who has lost his ball, What, what is he to do? I saw it go Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then Merrily over-there it is in the water! John Berryman
With free verse, there isno pattern until the poetcreates one. Free verse ispoetry without rules. Itdoesnt rhyme, and it doesnthave a meter. Free versedone well will have rhythm,though it may not have aregular beat. A variety ofpoetic devices may bethroughout the piece. Theremay be patterns of soundand repetition. Free versecan be compared to a songthat doesnt rhyme. There isstill a lyric quality to it.
I Dreamd in a Dream FogI DREAMD in a dream I saw acity invincible to the attacks The fog comesof thewhole of the rest of the earth, on little cat feet.I dreamd that was the newcity of Friends, It sits lookingNothing was greater therethan the quality of robust over harbor and citylove, it led on silent haunchesthe rest, and then moves on.It was seen every hour in theactions of the men of that Carl Sandburgcity,And in all their looks andwords. Walt Whitman
1. ABCDEF The sestina is a complex 2. FAEBDCform that achieves its effects 3. CFDABEthrough repetition. The sestina 4. ECBFADfollows a strict pattern of the 5. DEACFBrepetition of the initial six end- 6. BDFECA 7. (envoi) ECA or ACEwords of the first stanzathrough the remaining five six- The envoi, sometimesline stanzas, culminating in a known as the tornada, mustthree-line envoi. The lines may also include the remainingbe of any length, though in its three end-words, BDF, in theinitial incarnation, the sestina course of the three lines sofollowed a syllabic restriction. that all six recurring wordsThe form is as follows, where appear in the final three lines.each numeral indicates the In place of a rhyme scheme,stanza position and the letters the sestina relies on end-word repetition to effect a sort ofrepresent end-words. rhyme.
Don’t light on my chest, mantis! do-you’re Mantis! praying mantis! since your wings’ lost, leaves And your terrified eyes, pins, bright, black and Let the poor laugh at my fright, then see it: My shame and theirs, you whom old Europe’s poor poor Beg-”look, take it up” (thoughts’ torsion) ! Call spectre, strawberry, by turns; a stone- “save it! ” You point-they say-you lead lost children- I who can’t bear to look, cannot touch, -You- leaves You can-but no one sees you steadying lost Close in the paths men leave, saved, safe In the cars’ drafts on the lit subway stone. with you. Praying mantis, what wind-up brought you, Killed by thorns (once men) , who now will stone save you On which you sometimes prop, prey among Mantis? what male love bring a fly, be lost leaves Within your mouth, prophetess, harmless to (Is it love’s food your raised stomach prays?) , leavesMantis lost And hands, faked flower, -the myth: is dead, Here, stone holds only seats on which the bones, it poor Was assembled, apes wing in wind: On stone Ride, who rising from the news may trample you - Mantis, you will die, touch, beg, of the poor. The shop’s crowds a jam with no flies in it. Android, loving beggar, dive to the poor As your love would even without head to you, Even the newsboy who now sees knows it Graze like machined wheels, green from off No use, papers make money, makes stone, this stone stone, And preying on each terrified chest, lost Banks, “it is harmless, ” he says moving on- Say, I am old as the globe, the moon, it You? Is my old shoe, yours, be free as the leaves. Where will he put you? There are no safe leaves Fly, mantis, on the poor, arise like leaves To put you back in here, here’s news! too The armies of the poor, strength: stone on poor stone Like all the separate poor to save the lost. And build the new world in your eyes, Save it! Louis Zukofsky
Was the man crazy? What under the sun was he trying to do, up there on his balcony! At six oclock we were waiting for coffee, Each man received one rather hard crumb, waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb which some flicked scornfully into the river, that was going to be served from a certain and, in a cup, one drop of the coffee. balcony Some of us stood around, waiting for the --like kings of old, or like a miracle. miracle. It was still dark. One foot of the sun steadied itself on a long ripple in the river. I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle. A beautiful villa stood in the sun The first ferry of the day had just crossed the and from its doors came the smell of hot river. coffee. It was so cold we hoped that the coffee In front, a baroque white plaster balcony would be very hot, seeing that the sunA Miracle was not going to warm us; and that the added by birds, who nest along the river, --I saw it with one eye close to the crumb--For crumb would be a loaf each, buttered, by a miracle.Breakfast At seven a man stepped out on the balcony. and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb my mansion, made for me by a miracle, He stood for a minute alone on the balcony through ages, by insects, birds, and the river looking over our heads toward the river. working the stone. Every day, in the sun, A servant handed him the makings of a at breakfast time I sit on my balcony miracle, with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee. consisting of one lone cup of coffee and one roll, which he proceeded to crumb, We licked up the crumb and swallowed the his head, so to speak, in the clouds--along coffee. with the sun. A window across the river caught the sun as if the miracle were working, on the wrong balcony. Elizabeth Bishop
The highly structured villanelle is a nineteen-line poem with two repeating rhymes and two refrains. The form is made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain. The first and third lines of the opening tercet are repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poems two concluding lines. Using capitals for the refrains and lowercase letters for the rhymes, the form could be expressed as:A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2
Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas