The Ballade is a French rhymed and syllabic form. The Ballade's name derives from the Old French balade ("a dancing song"). It was one of the principal forms of music and poetry in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century France. Not to be confused with the ballad, the ballade contains three main stanzas, each with the same rhyme scheme, plus a shorter concluding stanza, or envoi. All four stanzas have identical final refrain lines. The rhyme and repetition in a Ballade made this form popular with audiences. The form allowed the listener to catch the poem more clearly at first hearing or first reading.
One of the most influential writers of early ballades was François Villon. He used the exacting form and limited rhyme scheme to create intense compositions about poverty and the frailty of life. Inspired by debauchery and vagrancy of his criminal life, his work often included scathing attacks on the wealthy and declarations about injustice.
In English, ballades were written by Geoffrey Chaucer in the fourteenth-century, and revived by Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne in the nineteenth-century. Aside from adaptations of Villon composed by Ezra Pound, there are few modern examples of the ballade and it is most often reserved for light verse.
Variations on the form include:
The basic Ballade, which has three stanza of 8 lines
Ballade Supreme, which has three stanza of 10 lines
The Double Ballade, which has six stanza of 8 lines
The Double Ballade Supreme, which has six stanza of 10 lines.
In a traditional Ballade:
The stanzas are of fixed size (number of lines and syllables).
A brief closing envoy has half the number of lines of the preceding stanzas.
The stanzas and envoy comply with a strong end-rhyme scheme.
The same line reoccurs as a refrain at the end of each stanza and envoy.
The shorter Ballade has 28 lines with only three rhymes throughout.
The longer Ballade (the Ballade Supreme) has 35 lines with only four rhymes throughout.
Here’s the rhyme scheme for the traditional Ballade:
ababbcbC
ababbcbC
ababbcbC
bcbC
The capital C represents a repeated refrain which ends each division of the poem.
No rhyme word should be repeated in the entire poem.
Unfortunately, this form was more complicated than I realized and I didn’t leave myself enough time to complete my own example. Therefore, rather that subject you to a rushed version of what I intended, I offer instead an example by someone else.
Ballad of the Dead Ladies
Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Translation of "Ballade des dames du temps jadis, by François Villon".
Tell me now in what hidden way is
Lady Flora the lovely Roman?
Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais,
Neither of them the fairer woman?.
Where is Echo, beheld of no man,
Only heard on river and mere,
She whose beauty was more than human?
But where are the snows of yester-year?
Where's Héloise, the learned nun,.
For whose sake Abeillard, I ween,
Lost manhood and put priesthood on?.
(From Love he won such dule and teen!
And where, I pray you, is the Queen.
Who willed that Buridan should steer.
Sewed in a sack's mouth down the Seine?
But where are the snows of yester-year?.
White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies,.
With a voice like any mermaiden,
Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice,.
And Ermengarde the lady of Maine,
And that good Joan whom Englishmen.
At Rouen doomed and burned her there,
Mother of God, where are they then?
But where are the snows of yester-year?.
Nay, never ask this week, fair lord,
Where they are gone, nor yet this year,.
Save with this much for an overword,
But where are the snows of yester-year?
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 28, 2010
Whimsical Wednesday
I have two stories to share today. Hope you enjoy. :-)
The Jewish Man and the Wall
A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.
So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.
She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.
"Pardon me, sir, I'm Rebecca Smith from CNN. What's your name?
"Morris Feinberg," he replied.
"Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?"
"For about 60 years."
"60 years! That's amazing! What do you pray for?"
"I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims."
"I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop."
"I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responsible adults, and to love
their fellow man."
"How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?"
"Like I'm talking to a f**kin' wall."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
THE BOTTLE OF WINE
For all of us who are married, were married, wish you were married, or wish you weren't married, this is something to smile about the next time you see a bottle of wine:
Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road.
As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride.
With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.
Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman. The old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every little detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.
'What in bag?' asked the old woman .
Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, 'It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband.'
The Navajo woman was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said:
'Good trade'.
The Jewish Man and the Wall
A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.
So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.
She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.
"Pardon me, sir, I'm Rebecca Smith from CNN. What's your name?
"Morris Feinberg," he replied.
"Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?"
"For about 60 years."
"60 years! That's amazing! What do you pray for?"
"I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims."
"I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop."
"I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responsible adults, and to love
their fellow man."
"How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?"
"Like I'm talking to a f**kin' wall."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
THE BOTTLE OF WINE
For all of us who are married, were married, wish you were married, or wish you weren't married, this is something to smile about the next time you see a bottle of wine:
Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road.
As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride.
With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.
Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman. The old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every little detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.
'What in bag?' asked the old woman .
Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, 'It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband.'
The Navajo woman was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said:
'Good trade'.
Apr 27, 2010
Random Shakespeare
William was born to a Stratford tanner named John Shakespeare. His mother Mary was the daughter of a wealthy gentleman-farmer named Robert Arden.
Nobody knows Shakespeare’s true birthday. The closest we can come is the date of his baptism on April the 26th, 1564. By tradition and guesswork, William is assumed to have been born three days earlier on April the 23rd, a date now commonly used to celebrate his birthday.
Legend has it that at the tender age of eleven, William watched the pageantry associated with Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Kenilworth Castle near Stratford and later recreated this scene many times in his plays.
Although he was one of literature’s greatest figures, Shakespeare never attended university.
Most academics agree that William wrote his first play, Henry VI, Part One around 1589 to 1590 when he would have been roughly 25 years old.
It is believed Shakespeare started writing the first of his 154 sonnets in 1593 at age 29. His first sonnet was Venus and Adonis, published in the same year.
Of the 154 sonnets the playwright penned, his first 26 were said to be directed to an aristocratic young man who did not want to marry. William’s 126th sonnet contains a farewell, to "my lovely boy" a phrase taken to imply possible homosexuality by some postmodern Shakespeare academics. Sonnets 127 - 152 talk about a dark woman, the Bard seems to have had mixed feelings for.
Shakespeare lived through the Black Death, which took place when he was 39. This epidemic killed over 33,000 in London alone in 1603 and later returned in 1608.
William never published any of his plays. We read his plays today only because his fellow actors John Hemminges and Henry Condell, posthumously recorded his work as a dedication to their fellow actor in 1623, publishing 36 of William’s plays. This collection known as The First Folio is the source from which all published Shakespeare books are derived and is an important proof that he authored his plays.
Shakespeare and wife (Anne Hathaway) had eight children, including daughter Susanna, twins Hamnet, Judith, and Edmund. Susanna received most of the Bard's fortune when he died in 1616, age 52. Hamnet died at age 11, Judith at 77. Susanna died in 1649, at the age of 66.
The Bard's will gave most of his property to Susanna, his first child and not to his wife Anne Hathaway. Instead his loyal wife infamously received his "second-best bed". The Bard's second best bed wasn’t so bad, it was his marriage bed; his best bed was for guests.
William Shakespeare died in 1616 at the age of 52. He wrote on average 1.5 plays a year since he first started in 1589. His last play The Two Noble Kinsmen is reckoned to have been written in 1613 when he was 49 years old.
* * * * * * * * * *
Suicide occurs an unlucky thirteen times in Shakespeare’s plays. It occurs in Romeo and Juliet where both Romeo and Juliet commit suicide; in Julius Caesar where both Cassius and Brutus die by consensual stabbing, as well as Brutus’ wife Portia; in Othello where Othello stabs himself; in Hamlet where Ophelia is said to have "drowned" in suspicious circumstances; in Macbeth when Lady Macbeth dies; and finally in Antony and Cleopatra where suicide occurs an astounding five times (Mark Antony, Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Eros).
* * * * * * * * * *
Racism crops up frequently in Shakespeare’s work as well. In Othello, the lead character, a Moor of African descent, is continuously insulted for his heritage and appearance (especially in Act I) by his enemies and even his supporters (Lodovico) at the play’s conclusion when Othello murders his wife for mistakenly believing she cheated. Racism also occurs in Titus Andronicus (towards the Moor named Aaron), The Tempest where the misformed giant Caliban is called "this thing of darkness" (Act V, Line 275), and in Richard II.
The Bard's characters frequently debase those of colored skin. In Love’s Labour’s Lost, the character King Ferdinand, King of Navarre, racially remarks that "Black is the badge of hell, the hue of dungeons and the scowl of night" (Act IV, Scene III, Lines 254-255).
Anti-Semitism also crops up. The Jewish moneylender Shylock in the Merchant of Venice is portrayed as greedy and calculating. At the play’s conclusion he is forced to change religion to Christianity as punishment for wanting "a pound of flesh" from Antonio who agreed to this if his friend forfeited a debt to Shylock. Being a Jew is used as a curse in Henry the First, Part Two (Act II, Scene IV, Line 178), in The Two Gentlemen of Verona (Act II, Scene V, Line 53), The Merchant of Venice, Anthony and Cleopatra, Much Ado about Nothing , Macbeth and The Merry Wives of Windsor.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Shakespeare introduced more words into English literature than all the other writers of his time combined, over 1,700 by some estimates, though in the past critics have credited him with introducing over 8000 words. If you’d like to see a list of these words, go HERE
Nobody knows Shakespeare’s true birthday. The closest we can come is the date of his baptism on April the 26th, 1564. By tradition and guesswork, William is assumed to have been born three days earlier on April the 23rd, a date now commonly used to celebrate his birthday.
Legend has it that at the tender age of eleven, William watched the pageantry associated with Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Kenilworth Castle near Stratford and later recreated this scene many times in his plays.
Although he was one of literature’s greatest figures, Shakespeare never attended university.
Most academics agree that William wrote his first play, Henry VI, Part One around 1589 to 1590 when he would have been roughly 25 years old.
It is believed Shakespeare started writing the first of his 154 sonnets in 1593 at age 29. His first sonnet was Venus and Adonis, published in the same year.
Of the 154 sonnets the playwright penned, his first 26 were said to be directed to an aristocratic young man who did not want to marry. William’s 126th sonnet contains a farewell, to "my lovely boy" a phrase taken to imply possible homosexuality by some postmodern Shakespeare academics. Sonnets 127 - 152 talk about a dark woman, the Bard seems to have had mixed feelings for.
Shakespeare lived through the Black Death, which took place when he was 39. This epidemic killed over 33,000 in London alone in 1603 and later returned in 1608.
William never published any of his plays. We read his plays today only because his fellow actors John Hemminges and Henry Condell, posthumously recorded his work as a dedication to their fellow actor in 1623, publishing 36 of William’s plays. This collection known as The First Folio is the source from which all published Shakespeare books are derived and is an important proof that he authored his plays.
Shakespeare and wife (Anne Hathaway) had eight children, including daughter Susanna, twins Hamnet, Judith, and Edmund. Susanna received most of the Bard's fortune when he died in 1616, age 52. Hamnet died at age 11, Judith at 77. Susanna died in 1649, at the age of 66.
The Bard's will gave most of his property to Susanna, his first child and not to his wife Anne Hathaway. Instead his loyal wife infamously received his "second-best bed". The Bard's second best bed wasn’t so bad, it was his marriage bed; his best bed was for guests.
William Shakespeare died in 1616 at the age of 52. He wrote on average 1.5 plays a year since he first started in 1589. His last play The Two Noble Kinsmen is reckoned to have been written in 1613 when he was 49 years old.
* * * * * * * * * *
Suicide occurs an unlucky thirteen times in Shakespeare’s plays. It occurs in Romeo and Juliet where both Romeo and Juliet commit suicide; in Julius Caesar where both Cassius and Brutus die by consensual stabbing, as well as Brutus’ wife Portia; in Othello where Othello stabs himself; in Hamlet where Ophelia is said to have "drowned" in suspicious circumstances; in Macbeth when Lady Macbeth dies; and finally in Antony and Cleopatra where suicide occurs an astounding five times (Mark Antony, Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Eros).
* * * * * * * * * *
Racism crops up frequently in Shakespeare’s work as well. In Othello, the lead character, a Moor of African descent, is continuously insulted for his heritage and appearance (especially in Act I) by his enemies and even his supporters (Lodovico) at the play’s conclusion when Othello murders his wife for mistakenly believing she cheated. Racism also occurs in Titus Andronicus (towards the Moor named Aaron), The Tempest where the misformed giant Caliban is called "this thing of darkness" (Act V, Line 275), and in Richard II.
The Bard's characters frequently debase those of colored skin. In Love’s Labour’s Lost, the character King Ferdinand, King of Navarre, racially remarks that "Black is the badge of hell, the hue of dungeons and the scowl of night" (Act IV, Scene III, Lines 254-255).
Anti-Semitism also crops up. The Jewish moneylender Shylock in the Merchant of Venice is portrayed as greedy and calculating. At the play’s conclusion he is forced to change religion to Christianity as punishment for wanting "a pound of flesh" from Antonio who agreed to this if his friend forfeited a debt to Shylock. Being a Jew is used as a curse in Henry the First, Part Two (Act II, Scene IV, Line 178), in The Two Gentlemen of Verona (Act II, Scene V, Line 53), The Merchant of Venice, Anthony and Cleopatra, Much Ado about Nothing , Macbeth and The Merry Wives of Windsor.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Shakespeare introduced more words into English literature than all the other writers of his time combined, over 1,700 by some estimates, though in the past critics have credited him with introducing over 8000 words. If you’d like to see a list of these words, go HERE
Apr 26, 2010
Mortmain Monday
mortmain - restrictive influence of the past on the present
Last week . . . *shakes head sadly* . . . I don’t know whether it was a convergence of the wrong planets, bad karma, or just plain bad luck, but last week was not a good week, neither writing-wise nor personal.
The doctor’s appointment I had Monday? I made this appointment back in October. I left work an hour early to get to my appointment on time. After waiting an hour and a half, the doctor was called away to an emergency and I had to reschedule. The first available appointment was June 30. Argh!
I did not have my “poemwork” done for my poetry group on Tuesday, although I did have a couple of new poems to read.
The rest of the week went downhill from there. All I can say is, I’m glad that week is behind me and a new week is just starting.
This Week’s Goals:
Tuesday: I have an idea for a new series I’d like to start, but it’s going to take a bit more investigation and a lot more research to see if it will fly. So, for this week I’m going to present you with a few random facts about the Bard.
Wednesday: I was cleaning up my e-mails on the weekend and I found a few amusing tidbits for Whimsical Wednesday. Thank God for friends who spam me!
Thursday: This week’s Passion for Poetry form is the Ballade, a French form which is not to be confused with the Ballad.
Friday: I solemnly swear to post Chapter 36 of the Space Opera.
Elsewhere in my week:
I have a meeting of the Northumberland Scribes tonight, for which I was supposed to write 150 words on the topic of spring and which I forgot about until now. Oops! Guess we’ll see how fast I can write after work today.
I have a couple of books I’ve been reading and I’d like to finish at least one of them by the end of the week. I’d also like to get a few more entries made into my book catalogue.
I’m sure by now you’ve noticed the colour changes to this blog. I got playing with the colours on the weekend and sometimes I just don’t know when to stop. It’s not exactly what I was aiming for, and I may or may not keep it like this. We’ll see how I feel later in the week.
So that’s what’s in store for me this week. How about you? What are you up to this week?
Last week . . . *shakes head sadly* . . . I don’t know whether it was a convergence of the wrong planets, bad karma, or just plain bad luck, but last week was not a good week, neither writing-wise nor personal.
The doctor’s appointment I had Monday? I made this appointment back in October. I left work an hour early to get to my appointment on time. After waiting an hour and a half, the doctor was called away to an emergency and I had to reschedule. The first available appointment was June 30. Argh!
I did not have my “poemwork” done for my poetry group on Tuesday, although I did have a couple of new poems to read.
The rest of the week went downhill from there. All I can say is, I’m glad that week is behind me and a new week is just starting.
This Week’s Goals:
Tuesday: I have an idea for a new series I’d like to start, but it’s going to take a bit more investigation and a lot more research to see if it will fly. So, for this week I’m going to present you with a few random facts about the Bard.
Wednesday: I was cleaning up my e-mails on the weekend and I found a few amusing tidbits for Whimsical Wednesday. Thank God for friends who spam me!
Thursday: This week’s Passion for Poetry form is the Ballade, a French form which is not to be confused with the Ballad.
Friday: I solemnly swear to post Chapter 36 of the Space Opera.
Elsewhere in my week:
I have a meeting of the Northumberland Scribes tonight, for which I was supposed to write 150 words on the topic of spring and which I forgot about until now. Oops! Guess we’ll see how fast I can write after work today.
I have a couple of books I’ve been reading and I’d like to finish at least one of them by the end of the week. I’d also like to get a few more entries made into my book catalogue.
I’m sure by now you’ve noticed the colour changes to this blog. I got playing with the colours on the weekend and sometimes I just don’t know when to stop. It’s not exactly what I was aiming for, and I may or may not keep it like this. We’ll see how I feel later in the week.
So that’s what’s in store for me this week. How about you? What are you up to this week?
Apr 23, 2010
Friday Failure
Sorry folks, due to craziness at work and migraines in my head, there will be no chapter today. I may or may not get it up tomorrow, but if not you'll have to wait until next Friday. My apologies.
Apr 22, 2010
Clerihew
The form was invented by and is named after Edmund Clerihew Bentley. As a 16-year-old pupil at St Paul's School in London, Bentley invented the clerihew as a diversion from school work. His first clerihew was created during a science class:
Sir Humphry Davy
Abominated gravy.
He lived in the odium
Of having discovered sodium.
The first use of the word in print was in 1928. Clerihew published three volumes of his own clerihews, including Biography for Beginners (1905), which was published under the name "E. Clerihew”.
Form specifics:
A Clerihew is four lines long.
The first and second lines rhyme with each other, and the third and fourth lines rhyme with each other.
The first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.
A clerihew should be funny.
They are not satirical or abusive, but they target famous individuals and reposition them in an absurd or commonplace setting, often giving them an over-simplified and slightly garbled description.
That's it! You don't have to worry about counting syllables or words, and you don't even have to worry about the rhythm of the poem.
You don't have to limit yourself to writing clerihews about people you know. You can write clerihews about people you have never met. A clerihew will work best, though, if you write it about someone who is well known, or who at least is known to the people who will read it.
Here’s my examples, and I challenge you all to give it a try. It’s lots of fun!
Here’s a nod to Twilight’s Bella
Who knows what works with both her fellas
With Edward and Jacob at her feet
Life for Bella is very sweet!
The writer Edgar Allan Poe
Wrote a lot of poems you know,
And though his work I just adore
He’s dead, so he’ll write nevermore.
Sir Humphry Davy
Abominated gravy.
He lived in the odium
Of having discovered sodium.
The first use of the word in print was in 1928. Clerihew published three volumes of his own clerihews, including Biography for Beginners (1905), which was published under the name "E. Clerihew”.
Form specifics:
A Clerihew is four lines long.
The first and second lines rhyme with each other, and the third and fourth lines rhyme with each other.
The first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.
A clerihew should be funny.
They are not satirical or abusive, but they target famous individuals and reposition them in an absurd or commonplace setting, often giving them an over-simplified and slightly garbled description.
That's it! You don't have to worry about counting syllables or words, and you don't even have to worry about the rhythm of the poem.
You don't have to limit yourself to writing clerihews about people you know. You can write clerihews about people you have never met. A clerihew will work best, though, if you write it about someone who is well known, or who at least is known to the people who will read it.
Here’s my examples, and I challenge you all to give it a try. It’s lots of fun!
Here’s a nod to Twilight’s Bella
Who knows what works with both her fellas
With Edward and Jacob at her feet
Life for Bella is very sweet!
The writer Edgar Allan Poe
Wrote a lot of poems you know,
And though his work I just adore
He’s dead, so he’ll write nevermore.
Apr 21, 2010
Whimsical Wednesday
I wish I could take the credit for this one, but alas, I can't. I found this little gem in an e-mail I printed off over 10 years ago. Why yes, I am a pack rat. Your point?
Ahem. On to the whimsy. :-)
Hamlet’s Soliloquy for Writers
To write, or not to write: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The rejections of outrageous editors,
Only to resubmit, And by resubmitting end them?
To die upon rejection: to sleep fitfully, awaiting the next;
No more; and by an acceptance letter, to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That acceptance is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, and are published.
It must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long awaiting ‘discovery’;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of editors,
The sharp pencil, the checkmark in the column “Does not meet our needs at this time”,
The pangs of waiting, the mail’s delay,
The insolence of assistants and the polite responses and suggestions.
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his publication make
With a major publisher? Who would a million editors bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary pen,
But that the dread of something awaited forever,
The undiscover’d book tour from which
No traveler returns, puzzles the writer
And makes us rather not submit
Than send our pet projects to those that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of smudged ink
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of rewrites,
And enterprises of great worth and promise
Are shoved in a drawer or recorded to a disk
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The fair Writer! Muse, in thy orisons
Be all my submissions and publications remember’d.
By Jo Loving Gann, 1999
Ahem. On to the whimsy. :-)
Hamlet’s Soliloquy for Writers
To write, or not to write: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The rejections of outrageous editors,
Only to resubmit, And by resubmitting end them?
To die upon rejection: to sleep fitfully, awaiting the next;
No more; and by an acceptance letter, to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That acceptance is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, and are published.
It must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long awaiting ‘discovery’;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of editors,
The sharp pencil, the checkmark in the column “Does not meet our needs at this time”,
The pangs of waiting, the mail’s delay,
The insolence of assistants and the polite responses and suggestions.
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his publication make
With a major publisher? Who would a million editors bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary pen,
But that the dread of something awaited forever,
The undiscover’d book tour from which
No traveler returns, puzzles the writer
And makes us rather not submit
Than send our pet projects to those that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of smudged ink
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of rewrites,
And enterprises of great worth and promise
Are shoved in a drawer or recorded to a disk
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The fair Writer! Muse, in thy orisons
Be all my submissions and publications remember’d.
By Jo Loving Gann, 1999
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