You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime—
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
W. E. Henley.
VILLANELLE.
In the clatter of the train
Is a promise brisk and bright.
I shall see my love again!
I am tired and fagged and fain;
But I feel a still delight
In the clatter of the train,
Hurry-hurrying on amain
Through the moonshine thin and white—
I shall see my love again!
Many noisy miles remain;
But a sympathetic sprite
In the clatter of the train