In accurate usage, poetry is a specific fine art, defined as follows: Poetry is the expression of thoughts which awake the higher and nobler emotions or their opposites, in words arranged according to some accepted convention.
This definition includes, for instance, Oriental forms of poetry, where the sole convention is the number of syllables to the line. Limiting it to usual Occidental poetry the following definition applies: Occidental poetry, in its usual form, is the expression of thoughts which awake the higher and nobler emotions or their opposites, in words whose rhythm tends toward uniformity or regularity, rather than toward variety.
Both prose and poetry have rhythm. But the rhythm of prose tends toward variety; and that of poetry toward regularity. There is no definite dividing line; each poet, each reader and appreciator of poetry, must arrive at his or her own dividing line. To some, the borderline of poetry includes only the strict regularity of Pope or Dryden, or Baby in the caldron fell, See the grief on mother's brow!
Mother loved her darling well. Darling's quite hard-boiled by now. Baby, Harry Graham. No one can quarrel with this, if it is an honest boundary. To others, the magnificent wilder rhythms of Walt Whitman and Lincoln's Gettysburg Address are definitely poetry.
No one can quarrel with this either. The test as to subject matter is subjective: does the alleged poem awake in the reader the higher and nobler emotions or their opposites?
Each reader, appreciator or poet is final arbiter in this test, as in the test of technique. The expression of thoughts which fail to register emotionally with a reader as poetry is called verse. Thus, divided by technique, there are the two classifications, poetry and prose; divided by subject matter and its emotional effect, there are the two classifications, poetry and verse.
Poetry in Human Affairs Poetry preceded prose, as a persisting form of literary expression. Writing was unknown to early man; and poetry was far better adapted to be retained in the mind than its more plodding relative, prose. The conventions of poetry formed memory devices which prose lacked.
In the beginning, lyric cries, folk wisdom, tales of tribal heroes, formal odes of jubilation or lamentation, religious teachings, philosophies, pseudo-sciences, histories of men, demigods, gods and peoples, developed first in the form of poetry. Insofar as the conventions of poetry were artificial and unnatural, poetry tended constantly to rigidify and petrify.
It became artificial and unnatural, whereas prose continued to be natural. Man learned to write, and to preserve his writing in stone, papyrus, sheepskin and paper. At first it was the poetry which was so preserved; at length the art patterns were broken, and humbler and more natural prose began to replace poetry. Today, we look to prose for folk wisdom, actual and fictional narratives, religious teachings, philosophies, scientific writings, and histories. Poetry, as the most concentrated and emotional expression of the soul of man, still should have its place in the lyric outbursts, the songs, of man.
But poets, bound by fossilized conventions, have become a tepid social group, their words largely unimportant; and in the large prose tends today to have replaced poetry entirely. Many of the poets today and tomorrow seek to restore poetry to something of its original wide popularity, as a natural and unartif icial expression of concentrated emotional speech. Kings, rulers, statesmen, generals, philosophers, scientists were. This is so no longer. Poets were once doers; they are now at best sayers, increasingly unheard.
This is one price of man's extreme specialization. The price paid may be more than the human gain, in this particular. The Poet's Equipment The poet, like all artists, is one of the race's sensitives: one of those more finely attuned to phrase the past and the present acceptably, and sense and phrase the future.
The first necessary equipment is sincerity. This demands that commonplace phrasings must be avoided, in favor of fresh original expression of individual or group concentrated emotions. If the race recognizes these as its own, to that extent the poet will be hailed as poetically great. Another essential is technical mastery; adeptness in the craft of poetry, skill in handling all the tools of the trade. Familiarity with all the conventions will enable you to break them and make new ones when your fresh subject matter demands it.
Technical mastery is as easy, and no easier, than learning how to raise better peas than your neighbor, or how to build better bridges and skyscrapers than anyone else. Having learned the craft, anyone with an ear for word-music can improvise flawless heroic blank verse or any other form of blank verse by the hour, or improvise elaborately rhymed sonnets with no appreciable hesitation.
This is not poetry. But the familiarity with the craft makes the coming of poetry easier, in the rare hours when the poet has a concentrated word that must be said. Poetic Greatness One can become great poetically, either in his own sight alone or in the opinions of others, without knowledge of the craft.
Homer, Sappho, Villon, Burns, made their own patterns, or poured their burning emotional beauty into ready-made patterns followed without being comprehended. The definitions of patterns were made afterward, from a scholastic study of poetry widely recognized as great. Such greatness may be achieved by anyone todaythe entirely satisfactory expression of one's soul's yearnings. But the recognition of. With a complete technical mastery of the craft of poetry, any poet today can achieve complete greatness in his own sight.
Whether he is hailed by others as great, and especially whether or not his name is hailed by his own and subsequent generations as great, depends largely on the extent to which his own concentrated heart-utterances express the desires of the race, in a new, fresh and original form. Given such recognition by the race, an enduring poetic greatness has been achieved. The poet can no more control this than Cnut could act as dictator over the tide.
How Poems Come Verse upon any theme, and in treatment ranging from the most ponderously serious to the most frivolously flippant, can be manufactured at any time. Its technique is comparatively simple. Its devices, meter, rhyme, alliteration, assonance, consonance, stanza arrangement may be mastered as easily as multiplication tables. Poetry comes differently. It is primarily the intellect that manufactures verse; but the intellect plays only a secondary part in creating poetry.
The desire that seeks expression, which it finds in the poem, springs from a deeper basic source than thinking. Man, indeed all forms of life, are compact of desires. The fulfillment of one desire causes others to spring hydra-like from its invisible corpse.
Psychologists tell us that dreams are likewise expressions of desire, in the form of desires fulfilled; that is, wish fulfillments. Much thinking is likewise wish fulfillment; there is truth in Wordsworth's dictum, "The wish is father to the thought. As one poet has it: Singing is sweet; but be sure of this, Lips only sing when they cannot kiss.
Art, James Thomson. Because of the obstacle, a tremendous inner compulsion comes upon the sensitive poet to seek relief by creating his wish-fulfillment in words: and so it is that poems are born. This inner compulsion has, as. Inspiration blows from no outer sky, but from the universe of desires within.
The woman's insistent inner compulsion to deliver her child at the appointed hour is hardly more shatter ingly imperative than the true poet's insistent inner commandment to write. At times the whole poem forms itself within the mind, before the first word is written down. At times a couplet, a single lineperhaps the first, but more often the lastor even a phrase or a mood comes first, with the dominant insistence that it be given the intermittent immortality of writing.
The wise procedure for the poet is to write down what comes, as it comes, even if only a single line or less is the result.
As far as possible, write out the poem without delay, to prevent another visitor from Porlock's silencing part of your poem forever, as Coleridge's Kubla Khan was silenced forever. When the poem or poetic fragment is written down, the critical intellect comes into play. If technical mastery has become habitual, the intellect may have no changes to suggest. The poet who fails to be a critic as well is usually his own self-slayer. More extended poems, of course, require more preparation and slower writing and criticism.
In all cases the danger is more in the overuse of the intellect than in the use of inspiration. Originality in Poetry The easiest way, in poetry, is to rephrase your own emotional reactions in the words and phrases created by the favorite poets of the past: so that a thing is "white as the driven snow," or "red as a June rose.
Second-rate poets distrust their own vision, which differs in every case from that of every other person in the world; and hence sag into such uncreative repetitions. It is wisest to be true to your own differing vision and seek to expand the boundaries of poetry by stating your own desires in your own terms.
The weakness of much verse and some poetry of the past is partly traceable to unoriginal teachers of English or versification, who advised their pupils to saturate themselves in this or that poet, and then write.
Keats, saturated in Spenser, took a long time to overcome this echoey quality and emerge into the glorious highland of his Hyperion. Many lesser souls never emerge. It is valuable to know the. But the critical brain should carefully root out every echo, every imitationunless some alteration in phrasing or meaning makes the altered phrase your own creation.
The present double decade has splendidly altered the technique of versification in poetry, by the addition of freer rhythms, consonance, and other devices in the direction of natural speech. It has altered the themes and subjects of poetry as much, until the Verboten sign is unknown to the present generations of poets, as far as themes are concerned.
If the speech is natural and conversational; the treatment sincere and original; the craftsmanship maturedthere is no reason in the poet's effort to withhold him from a seat among the immortals. It is easy to understand and not easy to define. In prose and poetry it means the flow of accented and unaccented syllables. It may be defined as: The successive rise and fall of sounds, in pitch, stress, or speed; when used of words, depending on accents, pauses, or durational quantities.
In classical Greek and Latin poetry, rhythm was not based on accent, but on the conventionalized time it took to pronounce syllables. Syllables were not accented or unaccented, as in modern poetry, from a standpoint of versification; but were long or short. Since two consonants occurring together made a syllable long, and a short vowel made a syllable short when followed by one consonant, the word honest was scanned as short-long: the rhythmic stress occurring on the second syllable, not on the first, as with us.
Honest, pronounced in the classical Greek or Roman way, would be ta-TUM; with us, it is pronounced rhythmically TUM-ta, the accent falling on the first syllable. This one example will show why verse written in English according to classical rules of scansion, based upon long and short syllables instead of accent, is unnatural and only slightly pleasing to the ear. It is no more at home among modern poets writing in English than Greek clothing or the Greek language would be.
Modern poetry written in English must be in words whose rhythm, based upon accent, tends toward uniformity rather than toward variety.
Both prose and poetry have rhythm, the stream or flow of accented and unaccented syllables; in prose the pattern constantly varies, while in poetry it approaches some sort ofregularity. This is clearly poetry:. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when Thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
It would be no less poetry if it were set up: Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory. Odours, when sweet violets sicken, live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, are heap'd for the beloveds bed. And so thy thoughts, when Thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on. It did not take the line division to make this poetry.
Technically, the tendency toward regularity in the rhythm made it definitely verse and not prose, while its emotional appeal, to most people, makes it poetry. It is equally poetic in either typographic form. Set up the opening of the first chapter of this book in the same line division: The word poetry is often used Loosely to mean whatever embodies The products of imagination And fancy, the finer emotions And the sense of ideal beauty.
In this lax usage, men speak of "The poetry of motion," the poetry Of Rodin or Wagner, the poetry This is prose. No magic worked by the line division can bring it any closer to poetry. Only a comparative regularity in the alternation of accented and unaccented syllables can make it acceptable verse; this, plus the proper emotional appeal, alone can make it poetry.
Meter and Metric Feet Meter is a comparatively regular rhythm in verse or poetry. There are four common metric feet used in English verse.
Their names are taken over from classic durational or quantity meters. The first two feet listed below are occasionally encountered in English verse, the third rarely or never.
In practice, the spondee may be used as an iamb or as a trochee; in combination, we may have In head -long flight in which the word is used as a trochee; He plunged head-long in which the word is used as an iamb. In actual verse and poetry, never forget that the actual rhythm of the words, as normally uttered in a conversational tone, differs from the artificial scansion pattern adopted. Take one of the most regular five-foot iambic lines in the language: The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
The curfew j tolls the knell of parting day. Here we have one iamb, two feet consisting of mere accented syllables for which we have no name, and two feet of three syllables each unaccentaccentunaccent, or amphibrachs. To make the actual line fit the planned iambic pattern, we have to divide words as follows: The cur-1 few tolls the knell of part-1 ing day. Absolutely natural iambic lines are rare: And dwell upon your grave when you are dead.
The Comedy of Errors, William Shakespeare. A repetition of such lines would be monotonous, unnatural and intrinsically unpoetic. To show a still further group of variations, the opening of Hamlet's most famous soliloquy, commencing "To be or not to be," is theoretically in the same iambic five-foot pattern: three lines, each consisting theoretically of five ta-TUM's.
The actual scansion brings in strange and unusual feet, or groups of unaccents with one accent, and shows that these three lines have only four actual feet apiece a foot being, in.
English, normally grouped around one accent , where the pattern called for five in each line: To be I or not to be. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Hamlet, William Shakespeare. Here are four feet of two syllables each two iambs and two trochees ; four of three syllables each three amphibrachs and one anapest ; one of one syllable; and three of four syllables each two of one type, one of another.
And only four natural feet to each line. This is acceptable five-foot iambic verse, in the hands of the world's greatest master. In later plays, his variations became more extreme, until at times his rhythms were less regular than Whitman's typical free verse or polyrhythmic poetry. What is desired, in metric poetry, is a regular pattern, with restrained freedom and variety in its use. The poet should learn to scan his poetrythat is, to mark the accented and unaccented syllables as above, and then to divide it both into the natural speech rhythm and into the artificial pattern rhythm.
There is no need for pride, if the poetry is excessively regular. As a rule, that means that it is strained and unnatural in phrasing, and to that extent falls below true greatness in technique. In reading poetry aloud or to oneself, avoid most of all an unnatural singsong. Instead, read this and all other poetry as naturally as if it were unpatterned prose. The pattern is there and will make itself felt. Excellence in reading depends upon naturalness in expression. Many more words in English are trochees than iambs.
Iambic is the preferred pattern because such trochaic words are normally introduced by a one-syllabled unaccented article, preposition, or the like. Normally lines do not open with the trochee hoping, but rather with such a phrase as in hoping, for hoping, and hoping, this hoping, if hoping, and so on.
Lines name the metric pattern and are described by the type of foot and the number of feet to the line. Thus a one-foot iambic line could be written: All hail! A two-foot iambic line would be: All hail to you! A three-foot iambic line would be: All hail to you, my friends!
A four-foot iambic line would be: All hail to you, my worthy friends! A five-foot iambic line would be: All hail to you, my wholly worthy friends! Note how naturally trochaic words like wholly and worthy fit into this iambic pattern. This line might have been: In hailing friendship's wholly worthy sons, in which case four words hailing, friendship's, wholly, worthy are complete trochees in themselves, yet are transformed into word-split units in the iambic pattern, by the introductory unaccented word in and the concluding accented word sons.
The iambic pattern may be used with a feminine ending: that is, with the addition of an unaccented syllable to the last foot. A stanza of five lines, successively one-, two-, three-, four-, and five-foot iambic lines with feminine endings, could be manufactured easily: Good morning, Benignant April, With all your rainbow blossoms, With birds all carolling their rapture, With love alive within the hearts of maidens.
The scansion for this would be:. With all I your rain-1 bow bios-1 soms, With birds all car-1 oiling their rap- ture, With love I alive within the hearts of maid-1 ens. This is often described as if the first line, for instance, were a twofoot line, with one syllable missing, and is called catalectic verse.
The reality is that of an iambic foot followed by a loose or unattached, unaccented syllable. Writing iambic verse is as easy as writing any form of verse. Iambic verse may be altered into trochaic at any time, by adding an accented syllable to each line's beginning or by removing the opening unaccented syllable. The process may be reversed as easily, thus changing trochaic verse into iambic. Start with this iambic version: And then the little Hiawatha Remarked unto the old Nokomis, I know that hills are edged with valleys.
By adding an accented syllable at the beginning of each line, this becomes trochaic: Now and then the little Hiawatha Said aloud unto the old Nokomis, Well I know that hills are edged with valleys. By removing the opening unaccented syllable in each iambic line above, the lines are four-foot trochaic: Then the little Hiawatha Said unto the old Nokomis, All the hills are edged with valleys. This is the regular meter of Longfellow's Hiawatha and is as easy to write as iambic verse.
Trochaic Verse Trochaic verse is less usual in English than iambic, because the custom of the language is to introduce most remarks with an unaccented syllable or word. Hiawatha opens upon this pattern: Should you ask me, whence these stories, Whence these legends and traditions, With the odours of the forest, With the dew and damp of meadows. Hiawatha, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
In natural accent the first three of the lines quoted have only two accents apiece, and not four: so that the natural scansion, as of the third line, is With the odours of the forest.
Shakespeare commences a witches' incantation with the abrupt staccato natural accent: Round about the cauldron go; In the poisoned entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Sweltered venom sleeping got, Boil thou first f the charmed pot. Macbeth, William Shakespeare.
An interesting variation here is the use of cold as a dissyllable, as if it were pronounced co-old. It may be regarded as the one-syllabled cold, followed by a pause consuming the length of time it would take to pronounce an unaccented syllable.
In any case, it is an effective variant device. Trochaic verse might certainly be described with propriety as iambic verse, with the introductory unaccented syllable omitted in each line. The description is unimportant; the important thing is to choose, understand, and use adequately the pattern, whatever it is called.
But the accepted pattern is trochaic four-foot, and the custom is to prefer the first scansion given. At any time, within reason dictated by the poet's own. Similar substitutions may take place in dactylic verse.
The best poetry contains variety within uniformity. Notice that in the trochaic lines from Macbeth the last unaccented syllable is omitted in every line. This again gives an example of catalectic verse. The name is unimportant: a trochaic line may end on a masculine ending as easily as an iambic line ends on a feminine ending. A dactylic line may end on a trochee or an accented syllable; an anapestic line may have an extra unaccented syllable, or even two of them, without losing its anapestic character.
Variety in uniformity It may be described as an iamb with an extra unaccented syllable added before it. A typical line following this pattern would be: To the end of the world in the dawn. The English language has more accented syllables than many others, and a succession of two unaccented syllables is comparatively infrequent. There are so few natural anapests in the language that this is usual and permitted. The same thing applies to dactylic verse. In anapestic and dactylic verse, a fourth syllable, usually unaccented, again like a grace note, may appear in any foot.
So long as such variations please the inner ear, the inner sense of word music, they are aids. The natural poet will always make his own patterns, knowing that poetry is self-created and not devised by rigid rules. It may be described as a trochee with an extra unaccented syllable added after it. Here is an illustration: Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they fought, and well.
Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they fought, and well. Once the technique of scansion is mastered, the poet must be his own court of last appeal upon it. These feet become excessively monotonous in long poems, though they may be used with advantage in brief lyrics. Variations in Metric Verse The use of variations in metric verse is widespread. The development of every poet of importance, whose technique did not begin and remain rigid and crystallized, has been in the direction of more and more variety.
This is displayed impressively by the development of Shakespeare and of Keats. Little such development is shown in the technique of more rigid minor poets. A few examples must suffice. Shakespeare in his final peak period wrote lines whose natural scansion was as loose as: A malady Most in-1 cident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,. The flow-1 er-de-luce being one! O, these 11 lack. The Winter's Tale, William Shakespeare.
One of the most praised lines in Keats is: Robs not I one light seed from the feath-1 er'd grass. Hyperion, John Keats. Keats has at least one line, in the same pattern, consisting of five trochees: Thea!
Where is Saturn? Robert Frost has such masterly lines as the following, in the same five-foot iambic pattern: And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand.
Strange how such innocence gets its own way. The Black Cottage, Robert Frost. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled. But the hand was gone already. In this last line the monosyllable So is followed by a pause that takes the place of a foot and a half. One of Frost's most triumphant variations is: Littlelessnothing!
And that ended it. Alison Gross, Old English Ballad. Where the chaf-1 finch sings on the or-1 chard bough. Home-Thoughts, from Abroad, Robert Browning. So numerous are the variations to which the metric pattern in English can be adapted, to the greater naturalness of the poetry.
Accent Pattern Instead of Metric Coleridge, in one poem, abandoned the formal metric foot altogether, in favor of a rediscovered Old English method of letting the line pattern consist of a definite number of accents, with any number of unaccented syllables, occurring in any order. How drow-1 sily it crew. Christabel, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. This follows the same method of accent versification. Walter de la Mare's most famous poem is built around a pattern of three accents to the line, as the second and fourth line below indicate; he uses unaccented syllables where he pleases: But on-1 ly a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then, Stood lis-1 tening in the qui-1 et of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men.
The Listeners, Walter de la Mare. Other modern poets have done as much, or more. Variety within uniformity. Blank Verse and Free Verse Blank verse means simply unrhymed verse.
Any line pattern, if unrhymed, is blank verse. Heroic blank verse is unrhymed five-foot iambic poetry or verse. Most of Shakespeare is written in heroic blank verse. Heroic couplets, beloved of Dryden and Pope, are pairs of five-foot iambic lines rhymed with each other. Free verse may be rhymed or unrhymed, although it is usually unrhymed, since rhyming is an even more unnatural convention of poetry than meter; and the poet who has abandoned formal meter will hardly, as a rule, still use the device of rhyming.
Free verse is verse without a metric pattern, but with a wider pattern than meter allows. It still tends toward regularity, rather than variety, and the final court of appeals as to whether any example should be classified as poetry or prose from a standpoint of content, or as verse or prose from a standpoint of technique, is the individual poet or reader himself. To many readers, the following are all poetry: Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, return, ye children of men. The Ninetieth Psalm. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicatewe cannot consecratewe cannot hallowthis ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or to detract.
The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here. The Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln. Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, out of the mockingbird's throat, the musical shuttle, out of the Ninth-month midnight, over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wandered alone, bareheaded, barefoot, down from the showered halo, up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were alive.
Walt Whitman used the artificial line division of poetry to present the third of these selections; the King James version of the Bible and Lincoln used the natural line division so familiar in the printing of prose. Little or nothing is added by the artificial line division: Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wandered alone, bareheaded, barefoot, Down from the showered halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were alive.
It is poetry, to many, in either form; and the first form is the more natural and readable. Scan the Whitman selection, or any of the others, and the tendency toward regularity of rhythm becomes apparent: a wider regularity, perhaps only an up rhythm or a down rhythm, but still inevitably there. This distinguishes free verse from prose, from the technical point of view. At times writers of free verse let their lines reach surprising lengths, no matter how lovely the music is: thus Sandburg,.
Cool Tombs, Carl Sandburg. Again the lines can be extremely brief: It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. Fog, Carl Sandburg. The free verse writer devises his own line-division pattern. This form, eliminating the devices of meter and rhyme, calls on the poet to avoid the inconsequential and the trivial, and to write down only his important utterances.
If rhyme is a shelter for mediocrity, as Shelley wrote in his preface to The Revolt of Islam, free verse is a test of the best that the poet has in him. Line Length in Verse Oliver Wendell Holmes, himself a doctor, advanced the theory that line length in verse marked physiologically the normal breathing of the poet.
In other words, a breath should be taken at the end of each line; and the line should be no longer than the poet's ability to hold his breath. No artificial line division is used in prose, to indicate where a breath should be taken.
There is no greater reason for artificial line division in poetry. It still remains true that the long Greek lines, each consisting of six feet, called for huge-breasted warriorbards to chant them; that the norm of English verse, the five-foot iambic line, indicates a lesser chest expansion in the typical English poet; and that the briefer modern tendency shows a further deterioration in the chest expansion of poets.
Where poetry consists in end-stopped lineslines with a natural pause at the end of each linethere is more reason for an artificial line division. Shakespeare began so; many poets never get beyond this, in the main.
But when we come to poetry like We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life. A sonnet set up in this manner appears: O bitter moon, O cold and bitter moon, climbing your midnight hillside of bleak sky, the earth, as you, once knew a blazing noon. Night brings the silver hour when she will die. We shall be cold as you are, and as bitter, icily circling toward a tepid fire, playing at life with our deceitful glitter, past joy, past hope, forever past desire.
Yet still the forest lifts its leafy wings to flutter for a while before the chill. And still the careless heart is gay, and sings in the green temple on the dusty hill. And the gulls tumble, and the homing ships peer for the harbor. And the sand drips. The Flight of the Eagle, v, Clement Wood. In an earlier volume, this had appeared with the usual line division of poetry as ordinarily printed. Rhyme can occur of course in ordinary prose, although this usage is extremely rare.
Where the rhythm of verse is used, as in the sonnet quoted, it is possible for poets to use the line and paragraph division usual to prose, if this is desired. Common Name, or Explanation A verse containing one metrical foot.
A verse containing two metrical feet. A measure consisting of two metrical feet; a ditrochee. A verse containing three metrical feet. A verse containing four metrical feet. A verse containing five metrical feet. A verse containing six metrical feet. A verse containing eight metrical feet.
A strophic verse of two lines, usually called a couplet today. Three unaccented syllables Three accented syllables Accent, unaccent, accent Unaccent, accent, accent Accent, accent, unaccent Two trochees regarded as a compound foot Accent, unaccent, unaccent, unaccent Accent, unaccent, unaccent, accent Three accents and one unaccent: of the first, second, third or fourth class, depending on the location of the unaccented syllable OTHER TERMS. Explanation Verse not defective in the last foot; verse complete in its number of syllables.
The lighter or unstressed part of a foot, especially in quantitative verse; later, the accented syllable of a foot.
A break in a verse caused by the ending of a word within a foot. A masculine caesura follows the thesis or stressed part of a foot. A feminine caesura follows the arsis or caesura comes after the third half foot, which means in the second foot; a penthemimeral caesura, after the fifth half foot; a hepthemimeral caesura, after the seventh half foot; and so on.
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