Jump to content
Poetry Magnum Opus

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'Oliver Wendall Holmes'.

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Blogs

  • Tinker's Blog
  • PMO Members' Promotional Blog
  • General Discussion Blog

Forums

  • Members' Poetry
    • Showcase
    • Showcase (overflow)
    • Workshop
    • Playground
    • Longer Works
    • Promotions
    • Archive
  • Reference Section
    • Tools
    • Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry
    • Misc. Reference Material
  • Special Interest
    • World Poetry
    • PMO Audio
  • Prose
    • The Prose Forum
  • Reading
    • A Poem I Read Today
    • Favorite Poets
  • General
    • General Discussion
    • Literary Discussion
    • Articles
  • Art
    • Art - General Discussion
    • Photography, Drawing, and Painting
  • Welcome
    • Site Welcome, Philosophy, and Rules
  • PMO Community Matters ***MEMBERS ONLY***'s Feature Requests
  • PMO Community Matters ***MEMBERS ONLY***'s Special Requests
  • PMO Community Matters ***MEMBERS ONLY***'s How-to
  • PMO Community Matters ***MEMBERS ONLY***'s Visions for the Site
  • Mostly-Free Exchange of Ideas Club's Topics

Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Found 1 result

  1. Tinker

    Split Sestet

    Explore the Craft of Writing American Verse The Split Sestet appears to be the American version of a Rime Couée. This six line stanzaic form is "split" by anapestic monometer lines. The elements of the Split Sestet are: stanzaic, written in any number of sixains. metric, L1,L2,L4,L5 are iambic trimeter and L3,L6 are anapestic monometer. rhymed, rhyme scheme aabaab ccdccd ect. The Last Leaf by Oliver Wendall Holmes 1895 I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone!" The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has pressed In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said-- Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago-- That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow; But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling.
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines.