Introduction to Sound and Meter
When most people think of poetry, the first things they think of are
sound and meter. For thousands of years, poetic form has been defined
by its cadence, its sing-song rhythms, and its sound effects. Contrary
to what many readers of contemporary poetry believe, free verse is not
mostly a random display of words and phrases; that couldn’t be any
further from the truth.
While it is true that free verse poetry does not subscribe to the set
meters and forms that defined earlier forms of verse, it must still deal
with these elements. If form in a poem relies almost entirely on two major
aspects: the visual and aural elements of a poem— then the poet who
seeks to shape a poem has little choice but to learn the elements of sound.
While on the surface it may seem that free verse has pulled the poet away
from the sound elements in a poem, in reality it has made the poet’s
task more complex. Since the poet is now free to irregularly change the
rhythms and sounds throughout a poem, he/she has many more choices to
make with every word put on the page. T. S. Eliot said in his essay"The
Music of Poetry" in 1942 that "no verse is free for the man
who wants to do a good job", and, although written 60 years ago,
it still holds true. The early 20th century changed forever the way we
look at poetic form.
When dealing with the aural aspects of a poem, two words always come
up: sound and meter. These words are difficult to define and have many
different aspects. Because of these difficulties, perhaps it is useful
to think of these terms in the language of metaphor. If you think of the
aural elements of a poem in terms of musical notation, you could think
of meter as the rhythm created by the words (the horizontal movement of
a piece of music, cutting up time into bigger or smaller increments) and
sound as the notes of the piece of music (or the vertical movement, repeating
sounds and syllables to create a "melody.") Each of these two
elements are complex and require an in-depth definition. First, let’s
start with meter.
Meter
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The bible of most poets today regarding meter and sound is a book
by Paul Fussell called Poetic Meter and Poetic Form. Although
some of Fussell’s ideas are a bit outdated (namely, he doesn’t
deal with the visual elements of a poem), his approach is complete,
concise and useful. Fussell defines meter as "what results
when the natural rhythmical movements of colloquial speech are heightened,
organized, and regulated so that [repetition] emerges from the relative
phonetic haphazard of ordinary utterance." (4-5) To "meter"
something, then, is to "measure" it (the word meter
itself is derived from the Greek for measure), and there
are four common ways to view meter.
- Syllabic: A general counting of syllables per line.
- Accentual: A counting of accents only per line. Syllables
may vary between accents.
- Accentual-syllabic: A counting of syllables and accents.
Syllables may not vary between accents.
- Quantitative: Measures the duration of words.
Of the ways of looking at meter, the most common in English are
those that are accentual. English, being of Germanic origin, is
a predominantly accentual language. This means that its natural
rhythms are not found naturally from syllable to syllable, but rather
from one accent to the next. There may be two or three syllables
between accents. For this reason most English language poets opt
to look at their own meter as accentual or accentual-syllabic.
The former is the more common; adherence to the latter often leads
an English language poet toward self-conscious verse, as their predictable
rhythms are counter to natural English speech.
To get a bearing on what these rhythms look and sound like, let’s
start with a method for writing out the rhythms of a poem. This
technique is called scansion, and is important because it
puts visual markers onto an otherwise entirely heard phenomenon.
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"The nature
of music is that you must hear all the digressions." From "The
Blue Swan" by Diane Wakowski |
Scansion
There are three kinds of scansion: the graphic, the musical and the acoustic.
Since the most commonly and most easily used is graphic, we will use it
in our discussion. For a discussion of the others, I refer you to Fussell,
page 18. To begin to look at graphic scansion, we first must look at a
couple of symbols that are used to scan a poem.
- ~ = an unaccented syllable
- ` = an accented syllable
- /= a break between poetic feet
- _= a caesura, or metrical pause
Syllables can either be accented, meaning they are naturally given
more emphasis when spoken, or unaccented, meaning they receive
less emphasis when spoken. A poetic foot is a unit of accented
and unaccented syllables that is repeated or used in sequence with others
to form the meter. A caesura is a long pause in the middle of a
line of poetry.
To show an example of these symbols, let’s look at a poem written
with the less common, the accentual-syllabic meter, in mind. Here
are three scanned lines from Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s "Autumn
Idleness":
You can then see, when comparing the reading of the poem to the scansion
marks, how they compare. The accented syllables are marked by ‘ and
the non-accented with ö. The symbol / shows the break between the feet
of the poem, and _ shows a caesura in the line.
These lines are taken from a sonnet and thus somewhat predictably written
in iambic pentameter. They thus have five accents per line and
their syllable counts are 10/10/10. The term iambic pentameter
often comes up in discussions of Shakespeare or any sonneteer, but the
meaning of the term is often mistaken or simply overlooked. Defining iambic
pentameter helps us break down two important parts of meter: poetic
feet and line length.
Poetic Feet
There are two parts to the term iambic pentameter. The first part
refers to the type of poetic foot being used predominantly in the
line. A poetic foot is a basic repeated sequence of meter comprised of
two or more accented or unaccented syllables. In the case of an iambic
foot, the sequence is ö ‘, or "unaccented, accented".
There are other types of poetic feet commonly found in English language
poetry.
The primary feet are referred to using these terms (an example word from
Fussell’s examples is given next to them):
- Iambic: destroy
- Anapestic: intervene
- Trochaic: topsy
- Dactylic: merrily
The substitutive feet (feet not used as primary, instead used to supplement
and vary a primary foot) are referred to using these terms:
- Spondaic: hum drum
- Pyrrhic: the sea/ son of/ mists
The second part of defining iambic pentameter has to do with line
length.
Line Length
The poetic foot then shows the placement of accented and unaccented
syllables. But the second part of the term, pentameter, shows the
number of feet per line. In the case of pentameter, there are basically
five feet per line.
The types of line lengths are as follows:
- One foot: Monometer
- Two feet: Dimeter
- Three feet: Trimeter
- Four feet: Tetrameter
- Five feet: Pentameter
- Six feet: Hexameter
- Seven feet: Heptameter
- Eight feet: Octameter
Rarely is a line of a poem longer than eight feet seen in English language
poetry.
Line length and poetic feet are most easily seen in more formal verse.
The example above from D.G. Rossetti is pretty obviously iambic pentameter.
And Rossetti uses an accentual-syllabic meter to flesh out his
poem with quite a bit of success. What most free verse poets find more
useful than this strict form is accentual meter, where the accents only
are counted in the line (although when scanned, the syllables are still
marked off...it is just that their number is not of as much import.)
Take this free-verse example from James Merrill:
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(Merrill 3)
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Things to note about this poem:
There is no any "set" meter in this poem, but the meter clearly
plays a key role in its effectiveness. In particular it is worth noting
the line that stands alone (line 7). Notice that Merrill moves toward
iambic pentameter in line 6 and then sustains it through line 7. Here
there is an inversion from the typical set-meter/variation sequence that
is found in a lot of more formal poetry. Here the variation comes in the
move into set meter, rather than varying from a set meter.
Just like establishing a visual pattern in a poem, establishing a meter
creates expectations in your reader. Consequently, as with pattern, to
vary that meter is to create emphasis. Some will say that your ear should
be the first judge on these matters rather than your eye (looking at the
scanned poem). There is probably some truth to this. Many poets will tell
you that you should always read a poem out loud several times every time
you get a draft done. If it doesn’t sound good every time, there
might be something that isn’t working. This is where scanning the
poem might come in handy; dissecting the lines and sculpting them until
they sound better.
Sound
When getting away from the straight rhythms of a poem, we get into the
sounds. As mentioned above, if the meter is the poetic equivalent of the
horizontal movement in a piece of music, then sound is the vertical movement.
If meter serves to cut up the poem into time, then sound serves to configure
the poem into a melody or sorts. This means that repeated sounds cohere
the poem in much the same way that repeated rhythms do. There are nearly
as many aspects to sound as there is to rhythm. The first is perhaps the
one with which people are typically most familiar.
Rhyme
A major aspect of sound in more formal verse is rhyme. Poetry with a
set rhyme scheme is less common now than it once was, but it is still
used, and can still be powerful. Used effectively, it is one of the many
important tools in the poet’s toolbox. The presence of rhyme in a
free verse poem serves to offset those lines that rhyme. Think of the
non-rhyming lines in free verse as establishing a pattern of not rhyming,
then the use of rhyme breaks the aural and visual pattern and creates
emphasis by variation from that pattern.
Take, as an example, this rather whimsical poem from Robert Creeley,"
The Conspiracy":
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You send me your poems,
I’ll send you mine.
Things tend to awaken
even through random communication.
Let us suddenly
proclaim spring. And jeer
at the others,
all the others.
I will send a picture too
if you will send me one two.
(Creeley 39)
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"I believe
in a poetry determined by the language of which it is made....I look
to words, and nothing else, for my own redemption either as a man
or poet." From "A Note" by Robert Creeley, 1960 |
The last stanza varies from the rest of the poem in that it rhymes (the
two "others" in the previous stanza rhyme too, but, as he repeats
the same word, it is probably more of a way of ramping up to the final
stanza (visually and aurally) than a "hard" rhyme.) This serves
to set the last stanza apart and to draw the poem to a close. Merrill’s
poem above also uses a similar device, although in separate stanzas. But
because of the abnormal pattern of rhyme in the poem, it can hardly be
said to have a "rhyme scheme."
The term rhyme scheme simply refers to the repetition of a rhyme
throughout a poem. A rhyme scheme is typically shown with letters representing
the patterns that the rhymes make throughout the poem. Take, for example,
this poem from Gerard Manley Hopkins:
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The Candle Indoors
SOME candle clear burns somewhere I come by.
I muse at how its being puts blissful back
With yellowy moisture mild night’s blear-all black,
Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye.
By that window what task what fingers ply,
I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for lack
Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack
There God to aggrándise, God to glorify.—
Come you indoors, come home; your fading fire
Mend first and vital candle in close heart’s vault:
You there are master, do your own desire;
What hinders? Are you beam-blind, yet to a fault
In a neighbour deft-handed? Are you that liar
And, cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?
(From http://www.bartleby.com/122/26.html)
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Here the rhyme schemes would be labeled ABBACDDC for the first stanza
and EFEFEF for the second. Take the rhyming words and put them next to
the letters and you will see the reasoning:
A by
B back
B black
A eye
C ply
D lack
D Jack
C glorify
E fire
F vault
E desire
F fault
E liar
F salt
Hopkins here is using a variation on the traditional Petrachan sonnet
form (evidenced first in the fact that, like all sonnets, it has 14 lines.)
And the rhyme scheme is now obvious. the patterns put forth in the rhyme
scheme create a notable pattern. Hopkins uses what most readers are familiar
with— what is called perfect rhyme, where the two (or three
or four) words are in complete aural correspondence. These are rhymes
like certain and curtain or any of the rhymes in the Hopkins example above.
But we have not yet discussed the other varieties of rhyme.
One issue that the poet must contend with is that in order to use rhyme
well, it can’t be forced. All of us have read ineffective poems where
the rhymes sounded like "the cat sat on the mat" and we felt
like we were being forced into a box that felt both unnatural and unnerving.
This type of rhyme is actually called forced rhyme, because it
does exactly that; forces the rhyme where it should not otherwise be.
This method of rhyme can be used at times, but the poet should know that
its effect is typically comic. Since one of the poet’s end goals
is inevitably to make their structure work for the poem so well that it
is not obvious at first that it is even there at all, then the effective
use of the different kinds of rhyme can serve these ends.
Types of Rhyme
- Perfect Rhyme: The words are in complete aural correspondence.
An example would be: Certain and Curtain.
- Forced Rhyme: An unnatural rhyme that forces a rhyme where
it should not otherwise be.
- Slant Rhyme: The words are similar but lack perfect correspondence.
Example: found and kind, grime and game.
- Masculine Rhyme: Has a single stressed syllable rhyme. Example:
fight and tight, stove and trove.
- Feminine Rhyme: A stressed syllable rhyme followed by an unstressed
syllable. Example: carrot and garret, sever and
never.
- Visual Rhyme: A rhyme that only looks similar, but when spoken
sound different. Example: slaughter and laughter. This
type of rhyme can be used more to make a visual pattern than to make
a aural rhyme.
Again we can see, using the examples from the Creeley and Merrill poems,
one way that rhyme can be used effectively in free verse. Here, as with
the meter, the effect of variance comes from the establishment of the
poem having no set rhyme scheme and then putting a rhyme into the poem.
Another often-seen rhyme technique is internal rhyme. With internal
rhyme, the rhyme comes in the middle of the line rather than the end.
A good example of this is in the first stanza of Edgar Allan Poe’s
"The Raven":
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber
door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Note that in lines 1 and 3 you get an internal rhyme with "dreary"
and "weary," and "napping" and "tapping."
This technique can sometimes be used to de-emphasize a rhyme that would
otherwise be too obvious.
Take, for example, these lines from Gary Snyder’s poem "Riprap":
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed
solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in
space and time:
(Snyder 32)
There are a lot of things going on here, but the places worth pointing
out in regard to internal rhyme are "place" and "space"
in lines 4 and 6, and the internal slant rhyme in line 4, "choice"
and "place."
Other Matters of Sound
The other major matters of sound that have yet to be discussed but are
just as important are assonance, consonance, and alliteration.
- Assonance: The same or similar vowel sound repeated in the
stressed syllable of a word, followed by uncommon consonant sounds.
Examples would be: hate and sale, or drive and
higher.
- Consonance: The same or similar consonant sound repeated in
the stressed syllable, preceded by uncommon vowel sounds. Examples:
urn and shorn, or irk and torque.
- Alliteration: Repetition of sounds through more than one word
or syllable. Example: Take the (extreme use of) the "L" sound
that repeats in the following phrase— "The lurid letters of
Lucy Lewis are luscious, lucid and libidinous."
All of these aural elements are mostly found within the lines of a poem
rather than at the end. Sometimes they carry from one line to the next
or over several lines. These are often used when a line or two seem to
lack cohesion (the repeated sounds create structure) or to create a repeated
set of sounds that will either A) stand apart from the words around them
(because they are aurally different) or B) will make a pattern with their
own sounds that can then be varied for emphasis. Take the use of alliteration
as an example. The (rather simple) line above can easily illustrate two
possibilities.
If the line came on the heels of something like:
The video clips taken by Frank in Louisville are dull but
the lurid letters of Lucy Lewis are luscious, lucid and libidinous.
Surely we haven’t seen anything like them in years.
The alliteration in the second line makes it stand out from the others
that surround it. Conversely, if we added a variance from the alliteration
and made it:
The lurid letters of Lucy Lewis are luscious, crude and libidinous.
The emphasis is obviously on the word "crude," as it now stands
apart from all the "L" sounds around it.
It is important to remember when implementing any of these techniques
that the goal of structure in a poem is to contain the poem, to allow
order and chaos to co-exist.
If the structure becomes too apparent (to the point that it detracts
from the experience of the poem, as in the "Lucy Lewis" example
above,) it is doing its job poorly.
Works Cited
Hall, Donald. ed. Claims for Poetry. Ann Arbor: U. of Michigan
Press, 2000.
Williams, William Carlos. Selected Essays of William Carlos Williams.
Random House: New York, 1954.
Griffiths, Sarah and Kevin Kehrwald. eds. Delicious Imaginations: Conversations
with Contemporary Writers. Notabell: West Lafayette, IN, 1998.
Wakowski, Diane. Toward a New Poetry. U of Michigan Press: Ann
Arbor, 1980.
Handout written by Sean Conrey
HTML markup by Erin Karper
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