Comparisons Between Lyrical and Ballad PoemsIndah Sofia binti Saleh Salim

Rose Akmaliana binti Nahar

Farhana Aminah binti Amir

Lyrical Poem Ballads Poem

non-narrative

short poem that reveals the speaker’s personal feeling, emotion, mode, state of mind, expression, thought, attitude, perception etc.

Lyric poetry does not tell any story, unlike Epic and Ballad; rather it is very personal and solely focused on the speaker’s personal feeling and ideas.

Lyric poetry does not address wider public. The speaker in a Lyric poem always uses first person.

Narrative

tells a story similar to a folk tale or legend & set to music

shows the reader what’s happening, describing each crucial moment in the trail of events.

Lyrical Poems Ballads Poems

subjective, reflective poetry with regular rhyme scheme and which reveals the poet's thoughts and feelings to create a single, unique impression.

Much lyric poetry depends on regular meter based either on number of syllables or on stress Scan Poem ? Regular Meter?

A short poem of songlike quality.

Lyric poems can become songs with the addition of a tune.

expresses intense personal emotion in a manner suggestive of a song.

Variation on this pattern in almost every respect, including length, number of lines and rhyming scheme, making the strict definition of a ballad extremely difficult

To convey the sense of emotional urgency, the ballad is often constructed in quatrain stanzas, each line containing as few as three or four stresses and rhyming either the second and fourth lines, or all alternating lines.

Similarities• Poems

• Music as the element of the poems

• Use common dialect of the people and are heavily influenced by the region in which they originate. 

• Regular rhythmic structure

• Themes: Love, death, supernatural, religious, tragedy, domestic crimes, and sometimes even political propaganda.

As all the Heavens were a Bell,And Being, but an Ear,And I, and Silence, some strange Race,Wrecked, solitary, here A leal, light heart was in my

breast, My hand unstain'd wi' plunder; And for fair Scotia hame again, I cheery on did wander: I thought upon the banks o' Coil, I thought upon my Nancy, I thought upon the witching smile That caught my youthful fancy. 

I felt a Funeral, in my BrainBY EMILY DICKINSON

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,And Mourners to and froKept treading - treading - till it seemedThat Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,A Service, like a Drum -Kept beating - beating - till I thoughtMy mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a BoxAnd creak across my SoulWith those same Boots of Lead, again,Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,And Being, but an Ear,And I, and Silence, some strange Race,Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,And I dropped down, and down -And hit a World, at every plunge,And Finished knowing - then -

Click !

The Soldier's Return

When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, And gentle peace returning, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, And mony a widow mourning; I left the lines and tented field, Where lang I'd been a lodger, My humble knapsack a' my wealth, A poor and honest sodger. 

A leal, light heart was in my breast, My hand unstain'd wi' plunder; And for fair Scotia hame again, I cheery on did wander: I thought upon the banks o' Coil, I thought upon my Nancy, I thought upon the witching smile That caught my youthful fancy. 

At length I reach'd the bonie glen, Where early life I sported; I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn, Where Nancy aft I courted: Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, Down by her mother's dwelling! And turn'd me round to hide the flood That in my een was swelling. 

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, "Sweet lass, Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, O! happy, happy may he be, That's dearest to thy bosom: My purse is light, I've far to gang, And fain would be thy lodger; I've serv'd my king and country lang- Take pity on a sodger." 

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, And lovelier was than ever; Quo' she, "A sodger ance I lo'ed, Forget him shall I never: Our humble cot, and hamely fare, Ye freely shall partake it; That gallant badge-the dear cockade, Ye're welcome for the sake o't."

She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose - Syne pale like only lily; She sank within my arms, and cried, "Art thou my ain dear Willie?" "By him who made yon sun and sky! By whom true love's regarded, I am the man; and thus may still True lovers be rewarded. 

"The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, And find thee still true-hearted; Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love, And mair we'se ne'er be parted." Quo' she, "My grandsire left me gowd, A mailen plenish'd fairly; And come, my faithfu' sodger lad, Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!"

For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor; But glory is the sodger's prize, The sodgerpppp's wealth is honor: The brave poor sodger ne'er despise, Nor count him as a stranger; Remember he's his country's stay, In day and hour of danger.