Culver Dell and the Squire
There's noo pleaece I do like so well,As Elem Knap in Culver Dell,Where timber trees, wi' lofty shouds,Did rise avore the western clouds;An' stan' ageaen, wi' veathery tops,A-swayen up in North-Hill Copse.An' on the east the mornen brokeAbove a dewy grove o' woak:An' noontide shed its burnen lightOn ashes on the southern height;An' I could vind zome teaeles to tell,O' former days in Culver Dell.
An' all the vo'k did love so wellThe good wold squire o' Culver Dell,That used to ramble drough the sheaedesO' timber, or the burnen gleaedes,An' come at evenen up the leaezeWi' red-eaer'd dogs bezide his knees.An' hold his gun, a-hangen droughHis eaermpit, out above his tooe.Wi' kindly words upon his tongue,Vor vo'k that met en, wold an' young,Vor he did know the poor so well'S the richest vo'k in Culver Dell.
An' while the woaek, wi' spreaden head,Did sheaede the foxes' verny bed;An' runnen heaeres, in zunny gleaedes,Did beaet the grasses' quiv'ren' bleaedes;An' speckled pa'tridges took flightIn stubble vields a-feaeden white;Or he could zee the pheasant strutIn sheaedy woods, wi' painted cwoat;Or long-tongued dogs did love to runAmong the leaves, bezide his gun;We didden want vor call to dwellAt hwome in peace in Culver Dell.
But now I hope his kindly feaeceIs gone to vind a better pleaece;But still, wi' vo'k a-left behindHe'll always be a-kept in mind,Vor all his springy-vooted houndsHa' done o' trotten round his grounds,An' we have all a-left the spot,To teaeke, a-scatter'd, each his lot;An' even Father, lik' the rest,Ha' left our long vorseaeken nest;An' we should vind it sad to dwell,Ageaen at hwome in Culver Dell.
The airy mornens still mid smiteOur windows wi' their rwosy light,An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dewOn growen groun' below our shoe;The blushen evenen still mid dye,Wi' viry red, the western sky;The zunny spring-time's quicknen powerMid come to oben leaf an' flower;An' days an' tides mid bring us onWoone pleasure when another's gone.But we must bid a long farewellTo days an' tides in Culver Dell.
Words in this poem
- knap v. t.
- To bite; to bite off; to break short. [D. knappen to chew, bite, crack, take hold of; prob. of imitative origin.]
- dell n.
- A small, retired valley; a ravine. [AS. del, akin to E. dale; cf. D. delle, del, low ground. See Dale.]
- copse n.
- A wood of small growth; a thicket of brushwood. See Coppice. [Contr. from coppice.]
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- noontide n.
- The time of noon; midday. [From noon + tide time; cf. AS. n the ninth hour.]
- wold n.
- A wood; a forest. [OE. wold, wald, AS. weald, wald, a wood, forest; akin to OFries. & OS. wald, D. woud, G. wald, Icel. völlr, a field, and probably to Gr. va a garden, inclosure.]
- dwell v. i.
- To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Culver Dell and the Squire 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, Culver Dell and the Squire, in Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect (1844–1862), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #21785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/barnes-dorset/culver-dell-and-the-squire.html, id L02179.
Form and metre
Culver Dell and the Squire is 60 lines in 5 stanzas of 12 lines each. It is in rhyming couplets, 93% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 32% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, 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 AABBCCDDEEAA wellA · dellA · shoudsB · cloudsB · topsC · copseC · brokeD · woakD · lightE · heightE · tellA · dellA
- 2 AABBCC--DDAA wellA · dellA · sheaedesB · gleaedesB · leaezeC · kneesC · drough · tooe · tongueD · youngD · wellA · dellA
- 3 AABBCC--DDEE headA · bedA · gleaedesB · bleaedesB · flightC · whiteC · strut · cwoat · runD · gunD · dwellE · dellE
- 4 AABBCCDDEEFF feaeceA · pleaeceA · behindB · mindB · houndsC · groundsC · spotD · lotD · restE · nestE · dwellF · dellF
- 5 AABBCCDDEEFF smiteA · lightA · dewB · shoeB · dyeC · skyC · powerD · flowerD · onE · goneE · farewellF · dellF
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 |
|---|---|---|
| There's noo pleaece I do like so well, | 8 | ········ |
| As Elem Knap in Culver Dell, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Where timber trees, wi' lofty shouds, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Did rise avore the western clouds; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| An' stan' ageaen, wi' veathery tops, | 9 | ········· |
| A-swayen up in North-Hill Copse. | 8 | ········ |
| An' on the east the mornen broke | 8 | ········ |
| Above a dewy grove o' woak: | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' noontide shed its burnen light | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| On ashes on the southern height; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| An' I could vind zome teaeles to tell, | 8 | ········ |
| O' former days in Culver Dell. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| An' all the vo'k did love so well | 8 | ········ |
| The good wold squire o' Culver Dell, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That used to ramble drough the sheaedes | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| O' timber, or the burnen gleaedes, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' come at evenen up the leaeze | 9 | ········· |
| Wi' red-eaer'd dogs bezide his knees. | 8 | ········ |
| An' hold his gun, a-hangen drough | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| His eaermpit, out above his tooe. | 8 | ········ |
| Wi' kindly words upon his tongue, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Vor vo'k that met en, wold an' young, | 8 | ········ |
| Vor he did know the poor so well | 8 | ········ |
| 'S the richest vo'k in Culver Dell. | 9 | ··/˘··/˘· |
| An' while the woaek, wi' spreaden head, | 8 | ········ |
| Did sheaede the foxes' verny bed; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' runnen heaeres, in zunny gleaedes, | 8 | ········ |
| Did beaet the grasses' quiv'ren' bleaedes; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' speckled pa'tridges took flight | 8 | ·/˘/·˘·· |
| In stubble vields a-feaeden white; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Or he could zee the pheasant strut | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In sheaedy woods, wi' painted cwoat; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Or long-tongued dogs did love to run | 8 | ········ |
| Among the leaves, bezide his gun; | 8 | ········ |
| We didden want vor call to dwell | 8 | ········ |
| At hwome in peace in Culver Dell. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But now I hope his kindly feaece | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Is gone to vind a better pleaece; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But still, wi' vo'k a-left behind | 8 | ········ |
| He'll always be a-kept in mind, | 8 | ·/······ |
| Vor all his springy-vooted hounds | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Ha' done o' trotten round his grounds, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' we have all a-left the spot, | 8 | ········ |
| To teaeke, a-scatter'd, each his lot; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' even Father, lik' the rest, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Ha' left our long vorseaeken nest; | 8 | ··/····· |
| An' we should vind it sad to dwell, | 8 | ········ |
| Ageaen at hwome in Culver Dell. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The airy mornens still mid smite | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Our windows wi' their rwosy light, | 8 | //˘····· |
| An' high-zunn'd noons mid dry the dew | 8 | ········ |
| On growen groun' below our shoe; | 8 | ······/· |
| The blushen evenen still mid dye, | 9 | ········· |
| Wi' viry red, the western sky; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The zunny spring-time's quicknen power | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Mid come to oben leaf an' flower; | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| An' days an' tides mid bring us on | 8 | ········ |
| Woone pleasure when another's gone. | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| But we must bid a long farewell | 8 | ·······/ |
| To days an' tides in Culver Dell. | 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.