Pious Rape

'I will put Chaos into fourteen lines'

I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
And keep him there; and let him thence escape
If he be lucky; let him twist, and ape
Flood, fire, and demon --- his adroit designs
Will strain to nothing in the strict confines
Of this sweet order, where, in pious rape,
I hold his essence and amorphous shape,
Till he with Order mingles and combines.
Past are the hours, the years of our duress,
His arrogance, our awful servitude:
I have him. He is nothing more nor less
Than something simple not yet understood;
I shall not even force him to confess;
Or answer. I will only make him good.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I took this poem apart last semester in school, for our poetry analysis requirement. I liked it at first, but after tearing it apart I liked it even more. It helped me realize why good poetry and other forms of communication are also a part of 'the arts'.