The code of the best of poetry

Upon the Fading Light

The golden sun doth kiss the weary land,

Yet shadows creep where once the roses grew.

The evening sky unfolds with tender hand,

And paints the world in shades of crimson hue.

The fleeting day resigns to night's embrace,

As silent stars in endless watch are set.

The moon ascends with melancholy grace,

A silver ghost that time shall not forget.

The whispers of the wind through branches bare

Do sing of love once bright but now undone.

Yet still within the dark, beyond despair,

There lies the promise of another sun.

For though the night be long and dreams may die,

The dawn shall rise and light the boundless sky.

Let’s calculate me in a chart for each verse the ratio R=number of letters of the verse\ number of words of the verse

Here is the calculated chart with the ratio RRR for each verse:

Verse Letters Words R=LettersWordsR = \frac{\text{Letters}}{\text{Words}}R=WordsLetters

The golden sun doth kiss the weary land, 32 8 4.00

Yet shadows creep where once the roses grew. 36 8 4.50

The evening sky unfolds with tender hand, 34 7 4.86

And paints the world in shades of crimson hue. 37 9 4.11

The fleeting day resigns to night's embrace, 37 7 5.29

As silent stars in endless watch are set. 33 8 4.13

The moon ascends with melancholy grace, 33 6 5.50

A silver ghost that time shall not forget. 34 8 4.25

The whispers of the wind through branches bare 39 8 4.88

Do sing of love once bright but now undone. 34 9 3.78

Yet still within the dark, beyond despair, 34 7 4.86

There lies the promise of another sun. 31 7 4.43

For though the night be long and dreams may die, 38 10 3.80

The dawn shall rise and light the boundless sky. 39 9 4.33

The dawn shall rise and light the boundless sky. 39 9 4.33

If you notice , the ratios are not far from each other, we see numbers varying from 3.80 to 5.5

Maybe Shakespeare was chosing carefully the right words and combining them with rhymes to construct his poems

Here’s another extract, this time from Sonnet 116 ;

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no! it is an ever-fixèd 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.