All loves and dreams and sounds and gleams of night But in the full face of the fire of day What part of heaven in all the wide sun's way? Yet the soul woke not, sleeping by the way, Watched as a nursling of the large eyed night, Nor more of song than they, nor more of light. For who sleeps once and sees the secret light Whereby sleep shows the soul a fairer way Shall care no more to fare as all men may, There shall he dwell, beholding night as day. Song, have thy day and take thy fill of light Algernon Charles Swinburne. 6. THE TRIOLET. The Triolet is, indeed, a poetic morsel, with rigid rules and very little room to expand even a single thought. It is an eight-line stanza with two rhymes. The first line is repeated as the fourth and seventh, and the second and the eighth are alike: When first we met, we did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master; When first we met we did not guess The inevitable disaster, When first we met? we did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master. I intended an Ode, R. Bridges. And it turned out a Sonnet, It began à la mode, I intended an Ode; But Rose crossed the road In her latest new bonnet. I intended an Ode, And it turned out a Sonnet. Austin Dobson. Under the sun There's nothing new; Poem or pun, Under the sun, Said Solomon, And he said true. Under the sun There's nothing new. "Love in Idleness." 7. THE VILLANELLE. The Villanelle consists of five three-line stanzas and one of four, with only two rhymes throughout, the two refrains occurring in eight of the nineteen lines: VILLANELLE. The daffodils are on the lea Come out, sweetheart, and bless the sun! This morn a throstle piped to me, "Tis time that mates were wooed and wonThe daffodils are on the lea." Come out, sweetheart, their gold to see, And building of the nests begun The birds are glad, and so are we. You said, bethink you!" It shall be When, yellow smocked, and winter done, The daffodils are on the lea." Yet, an' you will, to change be free! How sigh you?" Changes need we none- The birds are glad—and so are we ?” Come out, sweetheart! the signs agree, The marriage tokens March has spun The daffodils are on the lea; The birds are glad and so are we ! May Probyn. WHEN I SAW YOU LAST, ROSE. When I saw you last, Rose, You were only so high ; How fast the time goes! Like a bud ere it blows, You just peeped at the sky, When I saw you last, Rose ! Now your petals unclose, Now your May-time is nigh ; How fast the time goes! And a life,-how it grows! You were scarcely so shy, When I saw you last, Rose. In your bosom it shows There's a guest on the sly; How fast the time goes! Is it Cupid? Who knows! Yet you used not to sigh, When I saw you last, Rose; How fast the time goes! Austin Dobson. DEVELOPMENT OF VERSIFICATION. THE progress of art, unlike that of science, does not present an almost unbroken triumphal march from the earliest times to the present day. The achievements of the "maker in one age are not the starting-points of advance in the next. No poet commences his song with the accumulated knowledge and mastery of forces achieved by his predecessors, as the man of science begins his work. The discovery of nature's laws and the application of her forces to the physical needs of humanity may be regarded as practically illimitable, but it is not so with respect to the requirements and aspirations of the æsthetic side of human nature. Ideals of sensuous beauty of eye and ear, and of the loftier conceptions of our intellectual and emotional nature have already been attained and embodied in concrete forms which satisfy our finite capacities. The divinely gifted masters who have appeared in the world at rare intervals, have produced models of perfection beyond which we dare not hope to advance nor even emulate. What artist in marble, colours, or sound nowadays dreams of rivalling the beauty of a medieval cathedral, or the Madonna of a master-hand, or a symphony by Beethoven? |