Monthly Archives: August 2013

Aug. 26, 2013 Benjamin Harrison; John Hollander

Dear readers,

last Monday saw the passing of John Hollander, a right old expert in verse forms in English, also an expert translator and theorist of translating. Sterling Professor of English at Yale, dude was a walking dictionary of literary terms, and particularly learned on rhymed and measured verse in English. His “Rhyme’s Reason” (1981) is a master course in how to scan a poem and why it matters.
Not surprisingly, his own creative career reflects these interests. He started publishing in the 1950s, with work that showcased formal rigor. He grew into the free verse of the age, although not the confessional tendencies of 1960s and post-1960s American poetry. Rather, he grew more mythical and grand, his poems taking on sweeping vision and big American themes. Given the sweep and time frame of his work, maybe comparison to American jazz pianist Ahmad Jamal is warranted.
As we all know, the dactyl is the poetic foot that combines one long and two short syllables (often described as one accented and two unaccented syllables). The dactyl is named for the Greek word for finger, since the finger has one long and two short bones. You think it’s funny that a foot is named after a finger? So do I. Anyway, in 1966 Hollander and Anthony Hecht “invented” the double dactyl, and a fun little verse form that would work with it. Each 2-stanza poem usually features, in line 6, a single word that is a double dactyl. The last line of each poem is a choriamb (a dactyl with an extra accented syllable at the end). Below are two clever examples, mini-biographies. Unlike some poetry we read, I think it’s fair to say we’d be hard pressed to take a look at these and say, “Aw, I could do that…” Have a good week, -ed.

       Benjamin Harrison 

Higgledy-piggledy,
  Benjamin Harrison,
  twenty-third President,
  was, and, as such,
Served between Clevelands, and
  save for this trivial
  idiosyncrasy,
  didn't do much.               
       John Hollander 

Higgeldy-piggeldy
  schoolteacher Hollanders
  mutter and grumble and
  cavil and curse
searching for words for the
  antepenultimate
  line of this light-weight but
  intricate verse.

Aug. 12, 2013: PIED BEAUTY (Gerard Manley Hopkins)

Readers,

I’m sorry I have no time for commentary today but I wanted to get this out before the entire week slipped by. I saw reference to Gerard Manley Hopkins’ (1844-1889) “Pied Beauty,” and remembered how plainly felt it is, and fun. A dictionary entry refers to it as heavily spondaic (what does that mean?). And no section on formal verse would be complete without Hopkins. Good day! I said good day, ed.

PIED BEAUTY

Glory be to God for dappled things –

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise him.