Cut thread and thrum

[nineweaving]

"I don't believe great art comes just from pure imagination - it also comes from life experience and a lot of pain."
                                                        --Roland Emmerich

My life, through ling'ring long, is lodg'd in lair of loathsome ways,My death delay'd to keep from life the harm of hapless days.My sprites, my heart, my wit and

Comments

[sovay]

My life, through ling'ring long, is lodg'd in lair of loathsome ways,

Oh, my God, forget Shakespeare, Caedmon and Cynewulf are going to dig him up and kill him.

[nineweaving]

Hee!

And Hilda of Whitby will sell popcorn.

Nine

[strange_selkie]

...I swear upon something or other that I will never call myself a clumsy rhymer again.

[nineweaving]

He kind of sets the standard, doesn't he? Just north of McGonagall.

Nine

[ethelmay]

Sounds kind of like All Creatures Great and Small (checks -- yes, you can sing it to that tune...). I wonder what kind of hymn-writer he would have made?

[nineweaving]

Sounds kind of like All Creatures Great and Small (checks -- yes, you can sing it to that tune...)

{dies happy}

Fourteeners--Peter Quince's "eight and six"--are the common measure of ballads and hymns, and of most of those "You can sing all of X's poetry to A" memes.

They were also a favorite measure of Oxford's, though as Alan Nelson points out, "Fourteeners were already passé in Oxford's youth." Hardly a transformative poet.

Factor in the insanely thick alliteration, and you have something more like the Mad Hatter's 10/6.

Nine

[angevin2]

The existence of fourteeners, of course, is largely redeemed by the Golding's Ovid. Which nobody is nice enough to have online. Bastards.

(Personally I have a sort of amused weakness for the ones with alternating alexandrines and fourteeners, which I know has a name but I can't remember it. Queen Elizabeth's poems use it a lot.)

[ihcoyc]

Poulterer's meter?

[ihcoyc]

My life, through ling'ring long, is lodg'd in lair of loathsome ways,
My death delay'd to keep from life the harm of hapless days.

My diary contains such things, 'twould give my Mum a scare.
Methinks I'll wear a lot of black, pink-streak my black dy'd hair.

[nineweaving]

[applause}

Nine

[sovay]

My diary contains such things, 'twould give my Mum a scare.
Methinks I'll wear a lot of black, pink-streak my black dy'd hair.

Bravo.

[steepholm]

Help gods, help saints, help sprites and powers that in the heaven do dwell!
Help ye that are to wail ay wont, ye howling hounds of hell!
Help man, help beasts, help birds and worms that on the earth doth toil!
Help fish, help fowl that flocks and feed upon the salt sea soil!

Thank God he lived before the discovery of microbes, or we'd have been here all night.

[nineweaving]

Hee!

Help plague, help pest, help pox of might that in my bones doth lodge
(The one I caught in Southwark stews from Tom, Dick, Joan, and Hodge)

Nine

[angevin2]

I love you so much.

[nineweaving]

Aw gee.

Nine

[nineweaving]

Hee!

Nine