Expansive Poetry & Music Online: Prosody
Copyright (c) 2000 by Expansive Poetry & Music Online, Somers Rocks Press and Arthur Mortensen


Part I (Edited April 2002)

Line and Measure:

Whether you accept the argument of Frederick Turner in "The Neural Lyre," that the line was developed to match to the ability of the human ear to retain meaning, or that of a variety of prosodists who've seen it is as a means of showing (and controlling meter), the line is universal in verse.

As measure in music doesn't mark the beginning and end of a melody or variation neither does line in poetry, though each are used to indicate the beginning and the end of a piece.  Both show the time signature of a piece.

   Down By the Salley Gardens

  Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;
  She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
  She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
  But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
  In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
  And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
  She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
  But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

                        W.B. Yeats (1889)

Yeats's cute little poem (this was written a long time before 1916) is obviously (except for line 5) in 6, frequently varied, beats to the line.  In terms of line, it's very rigid, however;  each line is end-stopped.  The tension between phrasing and meter, which Yeats remarked at length on later in life, is nowhere evident.   When you're starting to write metrical verse, however, this is a good way to start.  As one practices scales in all the keys to get a sense of each, and triads until one's fingers are numb, it's necessary to get a powerful feel for how a metrical line can work.  Note, though, that this is not a rigid poem.  Yeats plays with the lines with what are called caesura, or breaks you'd hear aloud, with commas breaking lines 3, 4, 7 and 8.
        If Thou Must Love Me

        IF thou must love me, let it be for nought
        Except for love's sake only. Do not say
        "I love her for her smile- her look- her way
        Of speaking gently,- for a trick of thought
        That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
        A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"-
        For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
        Be changed, or change for thee,- and love, so wrought,
        May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
        Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,-
        A creature might forget to weep, who bore
        Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
        But love me for love's sake, that evermore
        Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

                 from Sonnets Sonnets from the Portuguese, E.B. Browning (1850)
 

Except for line 9, this is in 5 very regular, iambic beats per line.   Though the sentiments may be implausible in 2000, E.B. Browning's skill at making very regular lines maintain an interesting rhythm (as well as her use of near-perfect rhymes) bear study.  Note also that this poem, unlike the first, has phrasing that cuts across lines, or enjambment, as it's called.  Line 1 runs into line 2 in phrasing, but the strong iamb at the end of line 1 not only defines the line but sets up the rhyme three lines later -- nought/thought.   The first six lines are enjambed, in fact, as are 7 and 8, 9 and 10, 11 and 12, and 13 and 14.  The strong breaks at the end of 8, 10, and 12, however, bring us back on measure; there is what Frederick Turner describes as re-entry, an important concept in not only the use of meter, which is less obvious, but in rhyme.   Re-entry simply means a restatement; we are told that this really is in iambic pentameter.   While re-entry is a fundamental, and obvious, process in songwriting, it is no less important in verse, reminding us what the poem is about, or of a particular motif, and how it is to sound.   Thomas Carper, a contemporary of ours, approaches the line (and rhyme) in much the same way, disputing in his work many current conventions about "stifling" formal elements.   So does Annie Finch.
 
                            Prelude

           My nosegays are for captives;
              Dim, long-expectant eyes,
           Fingers denied the plucking,
              Patient till paradise.
-
           To such, if they should whisper
              Of morning and the moor,
           They bear no other errand....

                       Emily Dickinson (1891)
 

Each of Dickinson's lines here are comprised of three, moderatly varied beats, most iambs, with lines 2-4 introduced with a trochee, 1, 5-7 are unvaried.  Only lines 4 and 5 are enjambed, but this is such a short lyric that more would damage the way the poem sounds.
 
              The cottage homes of England!
             By thousands on her plains,
           They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,
             And round the hamlet fanes.
           Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
             Each from its nook of leaves;
           And fearless there the lowly sleep,
             As the bird beneath their eaves

                            from The Homes of England, Felicia Hemans (1830
 

The number of beats per line varies in this stanza, 3, 3, 4, 3, 4, 3, 4, 3.   Hear how they work that way by reading the poem aloud.  Varying line length, whether in a regular fashion as in Hemans, or in the irregular of Wordsworth, Cowley or others, including comic poems by Ogden Nash, if handled with good attention to sound and sense, is a powerful tool.  It almost takes the form here of strong statement/afterthought, or initial statement/additional detail.

One can readily see then that the line, by creating a metrical frame, is an expressive tool.  Whether combined with rhyme or not, it helps to pace the work, meet and betray expectations of where strong beats will fall.  How visible that frame is after the words are attached is a matter not only of skill but of intention.  In the following, rapidly changing line lengths and highly pronounced beats express something about the contents.

        Hear the sledges with the bells-
              Silver bells!
  What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
        How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
            In the icy air of night!
        While the stars that oversprinkle
        All the heavens, seem to twinkle
            With a crystalline delight;
        Keeping time, time, time,
        In a sort of Runic rhyme,
  To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
        From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
              Bells, bells, bells-
  From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

                from Bells, Edgar Allen Poe (1849)
 

Does this sound like bells with its rhythm?  I think not.  What does emerge in Poe's pounding beats and rapid variation of the line length is how Poe and maybe we might feel hearing a cacophony of bells.  As the poem develops, and becomes increasingly ominous, this metrical tactic, of intensely varied length and feet, as alarm bells seem to sound out of sync and with greater and greater clamor, and as we become increasingly confused about the source and its reason, makes a superb match with the subject.

The supple manipulation of line in Shakespeare's plays in iambic pentameter was the Bard's great gift to actors.  How lines connect together, stop on masculine endings, are divided in the middle, or fade out in feminine endings tell an actor how to say speeches (as does the meter and the occasional rhyme).   The tension between metered line and phrase, and metered line and sentence, noticeably increases the dynamics of speech, and can give plain old iambic pentameter a vivid intensity as great as anything in rhyme and with a music that puts virtually all free verse to shame.

 
             Hamlet
    O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
    Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
    Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
    His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
    How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
    Seem to me all the uses of this world!
    Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden
    That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
    Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
    But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two.
    So excellent a king, that was to this
    Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
    That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
    Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

                 Hamlet, I, ii, Shakespeare (~1604)

The above is a portion of Hamlet's first soliloquy.  Though of a moderately regular, 5 iambic beat line, the emotional disturbance in Hamlet's character is greatly amplified by severely altering the normal iambic pentameter flow with exclamations that often divide the line (as noted above, called technically caesura, or breaks), sentence fragments, a profoundly ugly metaphor about existence.   And yet, an amateur actor can read this, simply following the lines and the stops the playwright provided, and it will work for an audience.   Look how it might be said, contrasted with how it's laid out with iambic pentameter above.

             Hamlet
    O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
    Thaw,
    and resolve itself into a dew!
    Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!
   O God!
    God!
    How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable  Seem to me all the uses of this world!
    Fie on't! ah, fie!
    'Tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed;
     things rank and gross in nature  Possess it merely.
    That it should come to this!
    But two months dead!
    Nay, not so much, not two.
    So excellent a king,
    that was to this Hyperion to a satyr;
    so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
    Visit her face too roughly.
    Heaven and earth!
     etc....

That's an approximation.  Why didn't Shakespeare do it that way?  Was it just convention?  Suggestion: Knowing where the beats are expected to fall makes variation and exploitation of expectation possible.  Here's another pairing of original iambic pentameter layout and "as-it's-read" from
 

             CAESAR
  ...I must prevent thee, Cimber.
  These couchings and these lowly courtesies
  Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
  And turn preordinance and first decree
  Into the law of children. Be not fond
  To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
  That will be thawed from the true quality
  With that which melteth fools: I mean sweet words,
  Low-crookèd curtsies, and base spaniel fawning.
  Thy brother by decree is banishèd.
  If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
  I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
  Know Caesar doth not wrong but with just cause,
  Nor without cause will he be satisfied.
                    from Julius Caesar, IIII, i, Shakespeare (~1598)
 
 
                 CAESAR
   ...I must prevent thee, Cimber.
  These couchings and these lowly courtesies
  Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
  And turn preordinance and first decree Into the law of children.
   Be not fond To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
  That will be thawed from the true quality
  With that which melteth fools:
  I mean sweet words,
  Low-crookèd curtsies,
  and base spaniel fawning.
  Thy brother by decree is banishèd.
  If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
  I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
  Know Caesar doth not wrong but with just cause,
  Nor without cause will he be satisfied.
    The differences are not as striking as in the later play.  But, again, why bother with the iambic pentameter line?  We don't have Shakespeare available for a CNN interview, but a good guess is that the use of the iambic line made this expressive variation possible and, perhaps more importantly, controllable, just as the line does in music, whether for a 19th century symphony or piece by Duke Ellington.   Why?   Two opposing objectives are forced to work together:
1) to fit the iambic pentameter line, and 2) to make each sentence easily comprehensible.   If you do too many inversions of word order it will sound affected (though Shakespeare often used inversions as a detail of character -- in Hamlet, Horatio, a Latin scholar, constantly inverts noun and modifier, but you'd expect that in someone who studied a language where that was done all the time).  If you allow too many substitute feet, the meter will break apart and the driving rhythm of the speech will be lost.  If you only write sentence fragments, the speech won't make sense.  There's also the implicit, dramaturgical frame of the speech itself; if it goes on too long, the narrative's forward motion will be lost (a lesson Browning never learned as a failed playwright).

In short, with the line, as with other elements of prosody, the restraints of form motivate an array of sensibilities, not the least of which is editorial skill to get the most out of the least means.  Look at how much Caesar's speech delivers in fourteen lines:  his dangerous arrogance; his attitude of governance; his contempt for a courtier's false humility; his sentence; and his final judgment on the courtier.  The work to compress and fit, akin to a sculptor stripping away the "excess" around a figure he sees inside a block of marble, does not lessen but greatly enhances the speech's power.  By the frame of line (as by meter), the poet creates speech that is bolder and freer than a speech in prose ever could be.

Why would you want control in a cultural milieu so devoted to free expression?  Most obviously; without control, the freest expression in the world won't make sense.  But more subtly, structuring verse, like structuring thought, organizes impressions and ideas toward a purpose.   And the line and its length is one medium of control for a poet, whether writing about roses for a debutante or about prisoners of war in Chile.  And the line is used by both poets who use meter and those who don't.
 

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