Wise Wednesday Grammar: Figures of Speech (Anaphora)

Figure of speech.

SCHEMES.

Milestones of rhetoric - anaphora (english) from Peter Flume on Vimeo.

Anaphora (rhetoric)

In rhetoric, an Anaphora (Greek: ἀναφορά, "carrying back") is a rhetorical device that consists of repeating a sequence of words at the beginnings of neighboring clauses, thereby lending them emphasis. In contrast, an epistrophe (or epiphora) is repeating words at the clauses' ends.

One author well known for his use of anaphora is Charles Dickens (seen in quotation below). Some of his best-known works constantly portray their themes through use of this literary tool.

Examples

In time the savage bull sustains the yoke,

In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure,

In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak,

In time the flint is pierced with softest shower.

— Thomas Kyd, The Spanish Tragedy, I, vi. 3

Mad world! Mad kings! Mad composition!

— William Shakespeare, King John, II, i

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

— William Blake, The Tyger

In every cry of every man,

In every infant's cry of fear,

In every voice, in every ban,

The mind-forged manacles I hear:

— William Blake, London

Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would

Have struck those tyrants! Strike deep as my curse!

Strike!—and but once!

— Byron, Marino Faliero

With malice toward none;

with charity for all;

with firmness in the right,...

— Abraham Lincoln, Second Inaugural Address

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,

Out of the mock-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,

Out of the Ninth-month midnight,

Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander'd alone, bare-headed, barefoot,

Down from the shower'd halo,

Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were alive,

Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,

From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,

From your memories, sad brother, from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,

From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as if with tears,

From those beginning notes of yearning and love, there in the transparent mist,

From the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,

From the myriad thence-arous'd words,

From the word stronger and more delicious than any,

From such as now they start the scene revisiting,...

— Walt Whitman, "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking"

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it wasthe season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...

— Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Five years have passed;

Five summers, with the length of

Five long winters! and again I hear these waters...

— William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey

I fled Him down the nights and down the days;

I fled Him, down the arches of the years;

I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways

Of my own mind...

— Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven

We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender.

— Winston Churchill

Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never.

— Elie Wiesel, Night

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--

— Langston Hughes, Let America be America Again

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state, sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

— Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Where is the Life we have lost in living?

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

— T.S. Eliot, Chorus from "The Rock"

And pale their faces were as snow,

And sullenly they wander'd;

And to the skies with hollow eyes

They look'd as though they ponder'd.

And sometimes, from their hammock shroud,

They dismal howlings made,

And while the blast blew strong and loud

The clear moon mrk'd the ghastly crowd,

Where the green billows play'd!

–Mary Robinson, The Haunted Beach Stephen Greenblatt et al. The Norton Anthology of English Literature, volume D, 9th edition (Norton, 2012)

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