Enjambment

Enjambment

Enjambment is the opposite of end-stopped lines in poetry. Enjambment is when a line of poetry continues on for more than one line of the poem. Meaning flows as the lines progress, and the reader’s eye is forced to go on to the next line.

The following lines from Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale (c. 1611) are heavily enjambed

I am not prone to weeping, as our sex

Commonly are; the want of which vain dew

Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have

That honourable grief lodged here which burns

Worse than tears drown.

End Stopped Lines

In contrast, the following lines from Romeo and Juliet (c. 1595) are end-stopped lines:

A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun for sorrow will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.

Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished.

The majority of "Her Kind" utilizes enjambment, while the last 2 lines of each stanza are "end-stopped" lines.

Her Kind

by Anne Sexton

I have gone out, a possessed witch,

haunting the black air, braver at night;

dreaming evil, I have done my hitch

over the plain houses, light by light:

lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.

A woman like that is not a woman, quite.

I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,

filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,

closets, silks, innumerable goods;

fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:

whining, rearranging the disaligned.

A woman like that is misunderstood.

I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,

waved my nude arms at villages going by,

learning the last bright routes, survivor

where your flames still bite my thigh

and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.

A woman like that is not ashamed to die.

I have been her kind.

Links

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

That alters when it alteration finds

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! It is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out, even to the edge of doom.

If this be error, and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.