Sestina

A French Verse Form

This is probably the most difficult of the French forms. There are six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoi. The iambic pentameter is normally used in English, and the last word in each of the lines in the first stanza doesn't usually rhyme with another as such (though they do in the first example below), but is used in the other stanzas in a specified order. This order is normally abcdef faebdc cfdabe ecbfad deacfb bdfeca. The envoi then uses all six of these last words, three of them as line endings. This example, I saw my soul at rest upon a day, is by Algernon Swinburne, who seems to have delighted in complicated forms.

                   I saw my soul at rest upon a day
                   As a bird sleeping in the nest of night,
                   Among soft leaves that give the starlight way
                   To touch its wings but not its eyes with light;
                   So that it knew as one in visions may,
                   And knew not as men waking, of delight.

                   This was the measure of my soul's delight;
                   It had no power of joy to fly by day,
                   Nor part in the large lordship of the light;
                   But in a secret moon-beholden way
                   Had all its will of dreams and pleasant night,
                   And all the love and life that sleepers may.

                   But such life's triumph as men waking may
                   It might not have to feed its faint delight
                   Between the stars by night and sun by day,
                   Shut up with green leaves and a little light;
                   Because its way was as a lost star's way,
                   A world's not wholly known of day or night.

                   All loves and dreams and sounds and gleams of night
                   Made it all music that such minstrels may,
                   And all they had they gave it of delight;
                   But in the full face of the fire of day
                   What place shall be for any starry light,

                   What part of heaven in all the wide sun's way?
                   Yet the soul woke not, sleeping by the way,
                   Watched as a nursling of the large-eyed night,
                   And sought no strength nor knowledge of the day
,                    Nor closer touch conclusive of delight,
                   Nor mightier joy nor truer than dreamers may,
                   Nor more of song than they, nor more of light.

                   For who sleeps once and sees the secret light
                   Whereby sleep shows the soul a fairer way
                   Between the rise and rest of day and night,
                   Shall care no more to fare as all men may,
                   But be his place of pain or of delight,
                   There shall he dwell, beholding night as day.

                          Song, have thy day and take thy fill of light
                          Before the night be fallen across thy way;
                          Sing while he may, man hath no long delight.

Trust Swinburne to introduce the additional complication of rhymes within the stanzas. The example below of my own doesn't use them, but uses the standard end-word scheme. It's a less reverential (well, quite disrespectful, in fact) verse called Teach Yourself Sestinas:

                   For complex schemes, sestinas are the thing.
                   They start with an 'A, B, C, D, E, F'
                   then end with 'B, D, F, E, C, A' please,
                   and for triumph of form over meaning
                   just add an envoi to complete the task.
                   Got that? It's just about repeating words.

                   It's a damn' funny way to play with words;
                   if you ask me it's a very strange thing;
                   some would say that it's a really strange task.
                   The fourth line of stanza two ends with 'F'.
                   But so what? That's surely got no meaning?
                   Would you like to explain it to me please?

                   They say that little things little minds please,
                   and there are few littler things than words
                   shuffled around till they have no meaning.
                   It really is a joyless, pointless thing.
                   In stanza three, line five, we find our 'F',
                   so don't pretend you're warming to this task.

                   (If you can call this moving words a task).
                   I'm losing count, so can you help me please?
                   Should line three of stanza four end with 'F'?
                   I'm not talking lines here, I'm talking words -
                   an 'F-word', not an 'F-word' kind of thing.
                   Not this line 'F', if you get my meaning.

                   Who could blame you, if you asked 'where's the meaning?'
                   or said this was a Swinburne kind of task,
                   an absolutely pointless kind of thing?
                   I'd be grateful if you didn't swear please,
                   just knuckle down here and jiggle your words.
                   Right: the last line of verse five should be 'F'.

                   We're getting there: don't start all your 'F';
                   it doesn't matter if there's no meaning;
                   this is just a very odd game with words.
                   That's how to think near the end of the task:
                   the result doesn't matter, if you please.
                   To end it, and sigh deeply, that's the thing.

                          Now, how to rate this thing without meaning;
                          is this odd task meant to frustrate or please?
                          Well, try a few words beginning with 'F'.