The stanza in poetry is analogous with the paragraph in prose: related thoughts are grouped into units.
[4] This short poem by Emily Dickinson has two stanzas of four lines each: I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
[5] This poem by Andrew John Young has three stanzas of six lines each: Frost called to the water Halt And crusted the moist snow with sparkling salt; Brooks, their one bridges, stop, And icicles in long stalactites drop.
In the hard-rutted lane At every footstep breaks a brittle pane, And tinkling trees ice-bound, Changed into weeping willows, sweep the ground; Dead boughs take root in ponds And ferns on windows shoot their ghostly fronds.
But vainly the fierce frost Interns poor fish, ranks trees in an armed host, Hangs daggers from house-eaves And on the windows ferny am bush weaves; In the long war grown warmer The sun will strike him dead and strip his armour.