“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.”  ~Plato, Ion

Five Types of Poetry

As well as extending language, poetry generally does at least on of the following:

• It reveals deep personal feelings• It tells a story• It may present a drama or reveal character• It may make a serious social comment• It uses intrigue or humour to entertain us.

1. Lyric Poetry

• Express deep, personal feelings of a speaker or poet in a song-like form. Lyric poetry deals with basic human needs, thoughts, feelings, common human experiences and well-known things, and helps us view these in a new way.

• The most common types of lyric poems include idylls, haiku, odes, sonnets, elegies, hymns, most free verse, and popular song lyrics.

I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed---and gazed---but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.

- William Wordsworth

2. Narrative Poetry

• Tells a story in simple, direct, rhythmical language with a strong emphasis on plot or physical action.

• Often deals with history, geography, or myth.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Part II

"The sun now rose upon the right:Out of the sea came he,Still hid in mist, and on the leftWent down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,But no sweet bird did follow,Nor any day for food or playCame to the mariners' hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing,And it would work 'em woe:For all averred, I had killed the birdThat made the breeze to blow.Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,The glorious sun uprist:Then all averred, I had killed the birdThat brought the fog and mist.'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,The furrow followed free;We were the first that ever burstInto that silent sea.

Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down,'Twas sad as sad could be;And we did speak only to breakThe silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,The bloody sun, at noon,Right up above the mast did stand,No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,We stuck, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, every where,Nor any drop to drink.

- Samuel Coleridge

3. Dramatic Poetry

• Intended to be read aloud or performed in front of an audience.

• Situation, characterization, and conflict are revealed through monologue or dialogue.

My Last Duchess

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,Looking as if she were alive. I callThat piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s handsWorked busily a day, and there she stands.Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never readStrangers like you that pictured countenance,The depth and passion of its earnest glance,But to myself they turned (since none puts byThe curtain I have drawn for you, but I)And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,How such a glance came there; so, not the firstAre you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas notHer husband’s presence only, called that spotOf joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhapsFra Pandolf chanced to say “Her mantle lapsOver my lady’s wrist too much,” or “PaintMust never hope to reproduce the faintHalf-flush that dies along her throat”: such stuffWas courtesy, she thought, and cause enoughFor calling up that spot of joy. She hadA heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad,Too easily impressed; she liked whate’erShe looked on, and her looks went everywhere.Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,The dropping of the daylight in the West,

The poem is preceded by the word Ferrara:, indicating that the speaker is most likely Alfonso II d'Este, the fifth Duke of Ferrara (1533–1598) who, at the age of 25, married Lucrezia di Cosimo de' Medici, 14-year-old daughter of Cosimo I de' Medici

The bough of cherries some officious foolBroke in the orchard for her, the white muleShe rode with round the terrace—all and eachWould draw from her alike the approving speech,Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thankedSomehow—I know not how—as if she rankedMy gift of a nine-hundred-years-old nameWith anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blameThis sort of trifling? Even had you skillIn speech—(which I have not)—to make your willQuite clear to such an one, and say, “Just thisOr that in you disgusts me; here you miss,Or there exceed the mark”—and if she letHerself be lessoned so, nor plainly setHer wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,—E’en then would be some stooping; and I chooseNever to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,Whene’er I passed her; but who passed withoutMuch the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;Then all smiles stopped together. There she standsAs if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meetThe company below, then. I repeat,The Count your master’s known munificenceIs ample warrant that no just pretenceOf mine for dowry will be disallowed;Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowedAt starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll goTogether down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

- Robert Browning

4. Social Commentary

• Criticizes social habits, customs, attitudes, and problems in order to promote much-needed change in the individual or society.

A Song: ‘Men of England’

Men of England, wherefore ploughFor the lords who lay ye low?Wherefore weave with toil and careThe rich robes your tyrants wear?

Wherefore feed and clothe and save,From the cradle to the grave,Those ungrateful drones who wouldDrain your sweat -nay, drink your blood?

Wherefore, Bees of England, forgeMany a weapon, chain, and scourge,That these stingless drones may spoilThe forced produce of your toil?

Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?Or what is it ye buy so dearWith your pain and with your fear?

The seed ye sow another reaps;The wealth ye find another keeps;The robes ye weave another wears;The arms ye forge another bears.

Sow seed, -but let no tyrant reap;Find wealth, -let no imposter heap;Weave robes, -let not the idle wear;Forge arms, in your defence to bear.

Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;In halls ye deck another dwells.Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye seeThe steel ye tempered glance on ye.

With plough and spade and hoe and loom,Trace your grave, and build your tomb,And weave your winding-sheet, till fairEngland be your sepulchre!

- Percy Bysshe Shelley

5. Light Verse

• Meant to entertain, amuse, or intrique, although it sometimes has a serious purpose behind its humour.

• Forms include limericks, parodies, epigrams, and satire.

• Satire mocks a person, idea, or social institution.

Edward Lear, Book of Nonsence

There was an Old Man with a beard,

Who said, "It is just as I feared!–

Two Owls and a Hen,

Four Larks and a Wren,

Have all built their nests in my beard!"

There was a Young Lady whose chin,

Resembled the point of a pin:

So she had it made sharp,

And purchased a harp,

And played several tunes with her chin.