O, Villanelle Villanelle
O, Villanelle Villanelle! Thou who rhymes
so well with “little bell,”—whose lines amount
to nineteen, a prime that works every time.
Thy two refrains permit no theft or crime,
yet throughout the end-rhymes repeat and count;
O, Villanelle Villanelle,—Thou who rhymes!
Rain or shine, in calm or tempestuous climes,
thy song swells and falls of its own account
to nineteen, a prime that works every time.
Thy grandioso tempos build and climb,
then culminate in the ending's dismount;
O, Villanelle Villanelle,—Thou who rhymes!
Thy strict form is not for all paradigms;
for everything's transacted less discount
by nineteen, a prime that works every time.
And when refrains together go sometimes,
thy chords take on a sound that's paramount;
O, Villanelle Villanelle,—Thou who rhymes
to nineteen, a prime that works every time!
And when refrains together go sometimes,
thine chords take on a sound that's paramount;
O, Villanelle Villanelle,—Thou who rhymes
to nineteen, a prime that works every time!
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