2. Poem that contains a series of events using poetic
devices 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

3. Elements found in narrative poetry:
1. characterization: features and traits that
form the individual nature of some person
or thing
2. setting: the surroundings, environment, or
time frame where story takes place
3. conflict: collision or disagreement; be
contradictory, at variance, or in opposition;
clash
4. 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.

4. Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and And the silken, sad, uncertain
weary, rustling of each purple curtain
Over many a quaint and curious Thrilled me — filled me with
volume of forgotten lore fantastic terrors never felt before;
While I nodded, nearly napping, So that now, to still the beating of
suddenly there came a tapping, my heart, I stood repeating
As of some one gently rapping, "Tis some visiter entreating
rapping 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 your
wrought its ghost upon the floor. forgiveness I implore;
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — But the fact is I was napping, and
vainly 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.

5. 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 water
through the worm’s head, and his colors form a rainbow
and I watch the brown guts ooze out. as he arches his body above the
Papa throws the pole’s long arm back reeds.
and then forward. My Papa handles him
The line lands in a merky spot with the skill of a master
along 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

6. The lyric poet addresses the reader directly,
portraying his or her own feeling, state of mind, and
perceptions. Lyric poetry does not tell a story which
portrays characters and actions. The term lyric is
referred to as the words to a song. In lyric poetry,
the mood is musical and emotional.

7. Sonnet number 18
Shall I compare thee to a
summer's day? Thou art more
Dying lovely and more temperate.
I heard a fly buzz when I died; Rough winds do shake the
The stillness round my form darling buds of May, And
Was like the stillness in the air summer's lease hath all too
Between 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
nature's changing course
untrimmed.
William Shakespeare

8. Less concerned with expressing
feeling than with analyzing it,
Metaphysical poetry is marked by
metaphors drawing sometimes forced
parallels between apparently dissimilar
ideas or things, complex and subtle
thought, frequent use of paradox, and a
dramatic directness of language, the
rhythm of which derives from living
speech.

9. The characteristics of Romantic poetry
are that it emphasizes feeling, intuition and
imagination to a point of irrationalization.
An interesting schematic explanation calls
romanticism the predominance of
imagination over reason and formal rules
(classicism) and over the sense of fact or
the actual (realism). It is basically a
philosophical, literary, artistic and cultural
era which began in the mid/late-18th
century.

10. I dreamed that, as I wandered by the
way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to
Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Percy Bysshe Shelley

11. Limerick is often comical, nonsensical, and sometimes
even lewd. Composed of five lines, the limerick adheres to
a strict rhyme scheme and bouncy rhythm, making it easy
to memorize. Typically, the first two lines rhyme with each
other, the third and fourth rhyme together, and the fifth
line either repeats the first line or rhymes with it. The
limerick's anapestic rhythm is created by an accentual
pattern that contains many sets of double weakly-stressed
syllables. The pattern can be illustrated with dashes
denoting weak syllables, and back-slashes for stresses:
1) - / - - / - - /
2) - / - - / - - /
3) - / - - /
4) - / - - /
5) - / - - / - - /

12. 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

13. From the Italian, sonetto, which means "a
little sound or song," the sonnet is a lyrical
poem of fourteen lines, written in iambic
pentameter, and following one or
another of several set rhyme schemes.
Two sonnet forms provide the models
from which all other sonnets are formed:
the Petrarchan (or Italian) and the
Shakespearean (or English) forms.

14. That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more
strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare

15. The first and most common sonnet is the
Petrarchan, or Italian. The Petrarchan sonnet is divided
into two stanzas, the octave (the first eight lines) followed
by the answering sestet (the final six lines). The rhyme
scheme, abba, abba, cdecde or cdcdcd, is suited for the
rhyme-rich Italian language. Since the Petrarchan presents
an argument, observation, question, or some other
answerable charge in the octave, a turn, or volta, occurs
between the eighth and ninth lines. This turn marks a shift
in the direction of the foregoing argument or narrative,
turning the sestet into the vehicle for the
counterargument, clarification, or whatever answer the
octave demands.

16. The second
major type of sonnet, the
Shakespearean, or
English sonnet, contains
three quatrains and a
couplet. The rhyme
scheme: abab, cdcd,
efef, gg. The couplet
plays a key role, usually
arriving in the form of a
conclusion,
amplification, of the
previous three stanzas.

17. If a line has 10 syllables and in iambic
units, then the line has 5 feet. This specific
rhythm is called “iambic pentameter,”
and was popularized by Shakespeare.
Shakespeare uses changes in rhythm to
point out something to the reader.

18. 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 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.
William Shakespeare

19. The Italian Form The English Form
A A
B Octave B Quatrain
B A
A B
A C
B D Quatrain
B C
A D
C C C E
D D D Sestet F Quatrain
E C D E
F
C C C G
D D D G Couplet
E C D

20. A ballad is a rhyming narrative poem written in a form
that can be sung to music. A typical ballad is a plot-driven
song, with one or more characters hurriedly unfurling events
leading to a dramatic conclusion. A ballad does not tell the
reader what’s happening, but rather shows the reader what’s
happening, describing each crucial moment in the trail of
events. Their subject matter dealt with religious themes, love,
tragedy, domestic crimes, and sometimes even political
propaganda. To convey that sense of emotional urgency,
the ballad is often constructed in quatrain stanzas, with the
rhyme scheme abcb.

21. 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

22. It is an ancient mariner
And he stoppeth one of three.
--"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stoppest thou me?
The bridegroom's 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.

23. A couplet is a poem made of
two lines of rhyming poetry that usually
have the same meter. There are no rules
about length or rhythm. Two words that
rhyme can be called a couplet.

24. Each line in a couplet has an end
rhyme. We mark end rhymes alphabetically
to keep track of the rhyming pattern.
My boyfriend has eyes like a cat.
He always wears a hat.
The words cat and hat are end
rhymes. We use the letter "A" to mark the
rhyme pattern.
His hair looks like burnt hay.
He loves to fish at the bay.
If we join the couplets together the
words hay and bay would use the letter “B”.

25. A dramatic monologue is a
poem that shares many features with a
speech from a play: one person speaks,
and in that speech there are clues to
his/her character, the character of the
implied person or people that s/he is
speaking to, the situation in which it is
spoken and the story that has led to this
situation.

26. Spiked breast to spiked breast opposing!
LOQUITUR: En Bertrans de Born. Better one hour's stour than a year's 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! there's no wine like the blood's 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! Let's 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 worth's won and the swords
Sestina purple, opposing clash
Altaforte 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 There's no sound like to swords swords
When the tempests kill the earth's foul peace, opposing,
And the lightnings from black heav'n flash No cry like the battle's rejoicing
crimson, When our elbows and swords drip the crimson
And the fierce thunders roar me their music And our charges 'gainst "The Leopard's" 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 God's 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

27. The elegy is traditionally written in
response to the death of a person or
group. The elements of a elegy mirror
three stages of loss. First, there is a
lament, where the speaker expresses
grief and sorrow, then praise and
admiration of the idealized dead, and
finally consolation and solace.

28. 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 towns
W.H. poems. But for him it was his last afternoon that we believe and die in; it survives, A
Auden’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 were
In 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 Irish
Memory vessel lie Emptied of its poetry. In the
admirers. Now he is scattered among a
of W. B. hundred cities And wholly given over to nightmare of the dark All the dogs of
Yeats 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.

29. 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 there
Fugue of for a grave one lies unconfined
Death 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 from
Paul 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

30. O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd 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.
O
Captain! O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10
My For you bouquets and ribbon'd 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 You've 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 anchor'd 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.

31. "Ode" comes from the Greek aeidein,
meaning to sing or chant, and belongs to
the tradition of lyric poetry. The ode can be
a formal address to an event, a person, or a
thing not present. There are three typical
types of odes:
› Pindaric
› Horatian
› Irregular

32. Pindaric odes were performed
with a chorus and dancers, and often
composed to celebrate athletic
victories. They contain a formal opening,
or strophe, of complex metrical structure,
followed by an antistrophe, which mirrors
the opening, and an epode, the final
closing section of a different length and
composed with a different metrical
structure.

33. There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
William Wordsworth

34. The Horatian ode, is generally
more tranquil and contemplative than
the Pindaric ode. Less formal, less
ceremonious, and better suited to quiet
reading than theatrical production, the
Horatian ode typically uses a regular,
recurrent stanza pattern.

35. Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the
element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament To
the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast
breath, They sough the rumour of mortality.
Allen Tate

36. The Irregular ode has employed
all manner of formal possibilities, while
often retaining the tone and thematic
elements of the classical ode.

37. Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Thou 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 and
Of 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 maidens
loath? Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? Lead'st 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 evermore
Pipe to the spirit dities of no tone. Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not
leave O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Thy 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 woe
bliss Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair! say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty"---that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
John Keats

38. America, you ode for reality!
Give back the people you took.
Let the sun shine again
on the four corners of the world
you thought of first but do not
own, or keep like a convenience.
People are your own word, you
invented that locus and term.
Here, you said and say, is
where we are. Give back
what we are, these people you made,
us, and nowhere but you to be.
Robert Creeley

39. Blank Verse is Poetry that is written in
unrhymed iambic pentameter. Blank verse is often
unobtrusive and the iambic pentameter form often
resembles the rhythms of ordinary speech.

40. Excerpt from Macbeth
Tomorrow, 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 fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief
candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told 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

41. With free verse, there is
no pattern until the poet
creates one. Free verse is
poetry without rules. It
doesn't rhyme, and it doesn't
have a meter. Free verse
done well will have rhythm,
though it may not have a
regular beat. A variety of
poetic devices may be
throughout the piece. There
may be patterns of sound
and repetition. Free verse
can be compared to a song
that doesn't rhyme. There is
still a lyric quality to it.

42. I Dream'd in a Dream
Fog
I DREAM'D in a dream I saw a
city invincible to the attacks The fog comes
of the
whole of the rest of the earth, on little cat feet.
I dream'd that was the new
city of Friends, It sits looking
Nothing was greater there
than the quality of robust over harbor and city
love, it led on silent haunches
the rest, and then moves on.
It was seen every hour in the
actions of the men of that Carl Sandburg
city,
And in all their looks and
words.
Walt Whitman

43. 1. ABCDEF
The sestina is a complex 2. FAEBDC
form that achieves its effects 3. CFDABE
through repetition. The sestina 4. ECBFAD
follows a strict pattern of the 5. DEACFB
repetition of the initial six end- 6. BDFECA
7. (envoi) ECA or ACE
words of the first stanza
through the remaining five six- The envoi, sometimes
line stanzas, culminating in a known as the tornada, must
three-line envoi. The lines may also include the remaining
be of any length, though in its three end-words, BDF, in the
initial incarnation, the sestina course of the three lines so
followed a syllabic restriction. that all six recurring words
The 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 of
represent end-words. rhyme.

44. 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?) ,
leaves
Mantis 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

45. Was the man crazy? What under the sun
was he trying to do, up there on his balcony!
At six o'clock 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 sun
A 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

46. 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 poem's
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

47. 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 they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their 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 sight
Blind 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