I know I’ve put up a lot of poetry here recently, and I’m just about to post more. The genre of villanelle was probably fixed by one French poet in the late 16th c. Every villanelle consists of five three-line tercets and a final quatrain. In addition, the first and third lines of the first tercet recur alternately in the following stanzas and form a final couplet.
I’ve been particularly fascinated by this poem by W. H. Auden, If I Could Tell You, which I happily share now.
Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.
If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.
The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.
Suppose the lions all get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.
Needless to say, for all its beauty, the genre of villanelle has through centuries retained the mannerist quality of the French Renaissance.