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This article is about the poetry form. For other uses, see Rondeau.

A rondeau (plural rondeaux) is a form of French poetry with 15 lines written on two rhymes, as well as a corresponding musical form developed to set this characteristic verse structure. It was one of the three formes fixes (the other two were the ballade and the virelai), and one of the verse forms in France most commonly set to music between the late 13th and the 15th centuries. Variant forms may have 10 or 13 lines. A similar form is the French rondel and its English variant called roundel, devised by the poet Algernon Charles Swinburne.

The rondeau is a form of verse also used in English language poetry. It makes use of refrains, repeated according to a certain stylized pattern. It was customarily regarded as a challenge to arrange for these refrains to contribute to the meaning of the poem in as succinct and poignant a manner as possible. The rondeau consists of thirteen lines of eight syllables, plus two refrains (which are half lines, each of four syllables), employing, altogether, only three rhymes. It has three stanzas and its rhyme scheme is as follows: (1) A A B B A (2) A A B with refrain: C (3) A A B B A with concluding refrain C. The refrain must be identical with the beginning of the first line.

An example is We Wear the Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar:

WE wear the mask that grins and lies, (A)

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,... (A)

This debt we pay to human guile; (B)

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, (B)

And mouth with myriad subtleties. (A)

Why should the world be over-wise, (A)

In counting all our tears and sighs? (A)

Nay, let them only see us, while (B)

We wear the mask. (C)

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries (A)

To thee from tortured souls arise. (A)

We sing, but oh the clay is vile (B)

Beneath our feet, and long the mile; (B)

But let the world dream otherwise, (A)

We wear the mask! (C)

Perhaps the best-known rondeau is the following World War I poem, In Flanders Fields, by John McCrae:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place, and in the sky,

The larks, still bravely singing, fly,

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe!

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high!

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

This author page uses material from the Wikipedia article "Rondeau", which is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share-Alike License 3.0