I'm posting this one for the amazing enjambments between L3 and L4 and between L5 and L6:

Zola

Because he puts the compromising chart
Of hell before your eyes, you are afraid;
Because he counts the price that you have paid
For innocence, and counts it from the start,
You loathe him. But he sees the human heart
Of God, meanwhile, and in his hand was weighed
Your squeamish and emasculate crusade
Against the grim dominion of his art.

Never until we conquer the uncouth
Connivings of our shamed indifference
(We call it Christian faith) are we to scan
The racked and shrieking hideousness of Truth
To find, in hate's polluted self-defence
Throbbing, the pulse, the divine heart of man.

Those enjambments don't strike me as particularly extraordinary. In both cases, Robinson broke the lines before prepositional phrases, not an uncommon place to do that. I find the enjambment between the final two lines of the poem to be much more interesting.

But I'm glad you brought this subject up. Years ago I read a horrible poem written in a rhymed form by one of the doyenne's of free-verse immastery. She broke the lines any old place in order to achieve the rhymes. When I get home from work, I'll post that poem as an example of where NOT to break lines.

I am not objecting to the enjambments -- I think they are wonderful because of the surprise they produce.

'the price that you have paid' -- you expect something like 'for experience' or 'for your sin' or something like that -- the price that you've paid FOR INNOCENCE is paradoxical and startling -- but ultimately makes sense. The enjambment is perfectly placed to make this startling and make you think.

'he sees the human heart' sounds almost trite -- but 'the human heart/Of God' -- that's wonderful!

Both enjambments throw cold water on the reader who might be dozing his way through the poem and make him think.

Yes, I can see what you're saying:

Of hell
For innocence
Of God

He's got a pattern going there.

It would help me to appreciate the poem if I had read Zola's work.

Caleb, you don't have to read Zola to appreciate a great enjambment when you see it. You're exactly right on which one is great in this fine poem.

Is it a fine poem?

Clive Watkins

Clive, you ask if it's a fine poem. It has
vigor, certainly, and a couple of beautiful
touches, but I must confess that it's one of
two or three poems that I included in my little
Robinson book that I had, and have, mixed
feelings about. The rhetoric may be pitched
a little too high, and the sermon-like tone
could, I suppose, get on your nerves. It's
obviously the work of a pro, but, no question,
it's inferior to a number of other Robinson
poems, like Eros Turannos, The Wandering
Jew, The Sheaves, The Clerks, Hillcrest, Mr.
Flood's Party, Veteran Sirens, Isaac and
Archibald etc etc. But of course many of
those are as good as almost anything in our
language.

Well, I certainly am not qualified to place the poem on the exact rung it should occupy in world literature, but I have to say I rather like a good sermon sometimes (as long as it's not too full of religion). I like to be taken to task -- when the author earns his authority by taking himself to task at the same time.
This sonnet and the one on Crabbe are both meditations on our (or Robinson's) reaction to a literary figure. Part of what I admire about both is a sense of meditation - a moral intelligence threading its way through ambiguity by means of delicate distinctions. I like it that grabs us with paradox, but gives us the impression that if we work hard enough at the sonnet, all the paradox will be resolved by the insight we gain. It gives us a thought to chew on and gives me, at least, the appetite to chew on it.
In this respect, I admire "Zola" and "George Crabbe" more than say "Amyrillis", which, after all, sets forth a very simple (though striking) thought.

Yes, both the Zola and Crabbe sonnets have the
qualities you mention; I prefer the Crabbe,
perhaps because it's quieter (and all the
stronger for that). I agree that they're
better than "Amaryllis" (which I think I left
out of my selection); but they don't seem to
me as strong as quite a number of the other
sonnets---The Story of the Ashes and the
Flame, The Tavern, Ben Trovato, Souvenir,
Monadnock through the Trees, Recalled, Vain
Gratuities, The Tavern---and certainly don't
bear comparison, wouldn't you agree, with his
best, The Sheaves and Many Are Called.