Blessens A-Left
Lik' souls a-toss'd at sea I boreSad strokes o' trial, shock by shock,An' now, lik' souls a-cast ashoreTo rest upon the beaeten rock,I still do seem to hear the soundO' weaeves that drove me vrom my track,An' zee my strugglen hopes a-drown'd,An' all my jays a-floated back.By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God praise,Wi' much a-lost I still ha' jays.My peace is rest, my faith is hope,An' freedom's my unbounded scope.
Vor faith mid blunt the sting o' fear,An' peace the pangs ov ills a-vound,An' freedom vlee vrom evils near,Wi' wings to vwold on other ground,Wi' much a-lost, my loss is small,Vor though ov e'thly goods bereft,A thousand times well worth em allBe they good blessens now a-left.What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall,But what's my own my own I'll call,My faith, an' peaece, the gifts o' greaece,An' freedom still to shift my pleaece.
When I've a-had a tree to screenMy meal-rest vrom the high zunn'd-sky,Or ivy-holden wall betweenMy head an' win's a-rustlen by,I had noo call vor han's to bringTheir seaev'ry dainties at my nod,But stoop'd a-drinken vrom the spring,An' took my meal, wi' thanks to God,Wi' faith to keep me free o' dread,An' peaece to sleep wi' steadvast head,An' freedom's hands, an' veet unboundTo woone man's work, or woone seaeme ground.
Words in this poem
- drove n.
- A collection of cattle driven, or cattle collected for driving; a number of animals, as oxen, sheep, or swine, driven in a body. [AS. draf, fr. drifan to drive. See Drive.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Blessens A-Left is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, Project Gutenberg ebook #21785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Barnes, Blessens A-Left, in Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect (1844–1862), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #21785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/barnes-dorset/blessens-a-left.html, id L02320.
Form and metre
Blessens A-Left is 36 lines in 3 stanzas of 12 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCDEEFF, complete in 2 of its 3 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 22% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCDCDEEFF boreA · shockB · ashoreA · rockB · soundC · trackD · drown'dC · backD · praiseE · jaysE · hopeF · scopeF
- 2 ABABCDCD-CEE fearA · voundB · nearA · groundB · smallC · bereftD · allC · leftD · vall · callC · greaeceE · pleaeceE
- 3 ABABCDCDEEFF screenA · skyB · betweenA · byB · bringC · nodD · springC · godD · dreadE · headE · unboundF · groundF
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Lik' souls a-toss'd at sea I bore | 8 | ········ |
| Sad strokes o' trial, shock by shock, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' now, lik' souls a-cast ashore | 8 | ······˘/ |
| To rest upon the beaeten rock, | 8 | ········ |
| I still do seem to hear the sound | 8 | ········ |
| O' weaeves that drove me vrom my track, | 8 | ········ |
| An' zee my strugglen hopes a-drown'd, | 8 | ········ |
| An' all my jays a-floated back. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God praise, | 8 | ········ |
| Wi' much a-lost I still ha' jays. | 8 | ········ |
| My peace is rest, my faith is hope, | 8 | ········ |
| An' freedom's my unbounded scope. | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Vor faith mid blunt the sting o' fear, | 8 | ········ |
| An' peace the pangs ov ills a-vound, | 8 | ········ |
| An' freedom vlee vrom evils near, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Wi' wings to vwold on other ground, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Wi' much a-lost, my loss is small, | 8 | ········ |
| Vor though ov e'thly goods bereft, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| A thousand times well worth em all | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Be they good blessens now a-left. | 8 | ········ |
| What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall, | 8 | ········ |
| But what's my own my own I'll call, | 8 | ········ |
| My faith, an' peaece, the gifts o' greaece, | 8 | ········ |
| An' freedom still to shift my pleaece. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| When I've a-had a tree to screen | 8 | ········ |
| My meal-rest vrom the high zunn'd-sky, | 8 | ········ |
| Or ivy-holden wall between | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| My head an' win's a-rustlen by, | 8 | ········ |
| I had noo call vor han's to bring | 8 | ········ |
| Their seaev'ry dainties at my nod, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But stoop'd a-drinken vrom the spring, | 8 | ········ |
| An' took my meal, wi' thanks to God, | 8 | ········ |
| Wi' faith to keep me free o' dread, | 8 | ········ |
| An' peaece to sleep wi' steadvast head, | 8 | ········ |
| An' freedom's hands, an' veet unbound | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| To woone man's work, or woone seaeme ground. | 8 | ········ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.