I read somewhere once that you could always tell if a poem was a sonnet based on its shape. Sonnets, regardless of type or rhyme scheme, tend to be rather squarish. I was recently looking for a quote about rainy weather (it's still raining in fact), and stumbled upon the square poem that follows by Edna St. Vincent Millay. It wasn't what I was searching for, but it has been my obsession for the last
