Good Meaester Collins
Aye, Meaester Collins wer a-blestWi' greaece, an' now's a-gone to rest;An' though his heart did beaet so meek'S a little child's, when he did speak,The godly wisdom ov his tongueWer dew o' greaece to wold an' young.
'Twer woonce, upon a zummer's tide,I zot at Brookwell by his zide,Avore the leaeke, upon the rocks,Above the water's idle shocks,As little playsome weaeves did zwimAgeaen the water's windy brim,Out where the lofty tower o' stwoneDid stan' to years o' wind an' zun;An' where the zwellen pillars boreA pworch above the heavy door,Wi' sister sheaedes a-reachen coolAthirt the stwones an' sparklen pool.
I spoke zome word that meaede en smile,O' girt vo'k's wealth an' poor vo'k's tweil,As if I pin'd, vor want ov greaece,To have a lord's or squier's pleaece."No, no," he zaid, "what God do zendIs best vor all o's in the end,An' all that we do need the mwostDo come to us wi' leaest o' cost;--Why, who could live upon the e'th'Ithout God's gift ov air vor breath?Or who could bide below the zunIf water didden rise an' run?An' who could work below the skiesIf zun an' moon did never rise?Zoo air an' water, an' the light,Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right,Than all the goold the darksome clayCan ever yield to zunny day:But then the air is roun' our heads,Abroad by day, or on our beds;Where land do gi'e us room to bide,Or seas do spread vor ships to ride;An' He do zend his waters free,Vrom clouds to lands, vrom lands to sea:An' mornen light do blush an' glow,'Ithout our tweil--'ithout our ho.
"Zoo let us never pine, in sin,Vor gifts that ben't the best to win;The heaps o' goold that zome mid pile,Wi' sleepless nights an' peaceless tweil;Or manor that mid reach so wideAs Blackmwore is vrom zide to zide,Or kingly sway, wi' life or death,Vor helpless childern ov the e'th:Vor theaese ben't gifts, as He do know,That He in love should vu'st bestow;Or else we should have had our sheaereO'm all wi' little tweil or ceaere.
"Ov all His choicest gifts, His cryIs, 'Come, ye moneyless, and buy.'Zoo blest is he that can but liftHis prayer vor a happy gift."
Words in this poem
- 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.]
- playsome a.
- Playful; wanton; sportive. R. Browning.
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- girt v. t.
- To gird; to encircle; to invest by means of a girdle; to measure the girth of; as, to girt a tree. [From Girt, n., cf. Girth, v.]
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- bide v. i.
- To dwell; to inhabit; to abide; to stay. [OE. biden, AS. bidan; akin to OHG. bitan, Goth. beidan, Icel. bi; perh. orig., to wait with trust, and akin to bid. See Bid, v. t., and cf. Abide.]
- darksome a.
- Dark; gloomy; obscure; shaded; cheerless.
- sleepless a.
- Having no sleep; wakeful.
- peaceless a.
- Without peace; disturbed. Sandys.
- moneyless a.
- Destitute of money; penniless; impecunious.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Good Meaester Collins 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, Good Meaester Collins, in Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect (1844–1862), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #21785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/barnes-dorset/good-meaester-collins.html, id L02234.
Form and metre
Good Meaester Collins is 60 lines in 5 verse paragraphs. 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 90%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 28% 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 AABBCC blestA · restA · meekB · speakB · tongueC · youngC
- 2 AABBCC--DDEE tideA · zideA · rocksB · shocksB · zwimC · brimC · stwone · zun · boreD · doorD · coolE · poolE
- 3 AABBCCDDEE--FFGGHHIIJJKKLL smileA · tweilA · greaeceB · pleaeceB · zendC · endC · mwostD · costD · e'thE · breathE · zun · run · skiesF · riseF · lightG · rightG · clayH · dayH · headsI · bedsI · bideJ · rideJ · freeK · seaK · glowL · hoL
- 4 AABBCCDDEEFF sinA · winA · pileB · tweilB · wideC · zideC · deathD · e'thD · knowE · bestowE · sheaereF · ceaereF
- 5 AABB cryA · buyA · liftB · giftB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Aye, Meaester Collins wer a-blest | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Wi' greaece, an' now's a-gone to rest; | 8 | ········ |
| An' though his heart did beaet so meek | 8 | ········ |
| 'S a little child's, when he did speak, | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| The godly wisdom ov his tongue | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Wer dew o' greaece to wold an' young. | 8 | ········ |
| 'Twer woonce, upon a zummer's tide, | 8 | ········ |
| I zot at Brookwell by his zide, | 8 | ········ |
| Avore the leaeke, upon the rocks, | 8 | ········ |
| Above the water's idle shocks, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| As little playsome weaeves did zwim | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Ageaen the water's windy brim, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Out where the lofty tower o' stwone | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| Did stan' to years o' wind an' zun; | 8 | ········ |
| An' where the zwellen pillars bore | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| A pworch above the heavy door, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Wi' sister sheaedes a-reachen cool | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Athirt the stwones an' sparklen pool. | 8 | ········ |
| I spoke zome word that meaede en smile, | 8 | ········ |
| O' girt vo'k's wealth an' poor vo'k's tweil, | 8 | ········ |
| As if I pin'd, vor want ov greaece, | 8 | ········ |
| To have a lord's or squier's pleaece. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| "No, no," he zaid, "what God do zend | 8 | ········ |
| Is best vor all o's in the end, | 8 | ········ |
| An' all that we do need the mwost | 8 | ········ |
| Do come to us wi' leaest o' cost;-- | 8 | ········ |
| Why, who could live upon the e'th | 8 | ········ |
| 'Ithout God's gift ov air vor breath? | 8 | ········ |
| Or who could bide below the zun | 8 | ········ |
| If water didden rise an' run? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' who could work below the skies | 8 | ········ |
| If zun an' moon did never rise? | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Zoo air an' water, an' the light, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Than all the goold the darksome clay | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Can ever yield to zunny day: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| But then the air is roun' our heads, | 8 | ······/· |
| Abroad by day, or on our beds; | 8 | ˘/····/· |
| Where land do gi'e us room to bide, | 8 | ········ |
| Or seas do spread vor ships to ride; | 8 | ········ |
| An' He do zend his waters free, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Vrom clouds to lands, vrom lands to sea: | 8 | ········ |
| An' mornen light do blush an' glow, | 8 | ········ |
| 'Ithout our tweil--'ithout our ho. | 8 | ··/···/· |
| "Zoo let us never pine, in sin, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Vor gifts that ben't the best to win; | 8 | ········ |
| The heaps o' goold that zome mid pile, | 8 | ········ |
| Wi' sleepless nights an' peaceless tweil; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Or manor that mid reach so wide | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| As Blackmwore is vrom zide to zide, | 8 | ········ |
| Or kingly sway, wi' life or death, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Vor helpless childern ov the e'th: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Vor theaese ben't gifts, as He do know, | 8 | ········ |
| That He in love should vu'st bestow; | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Or else we should have had our sheaere | 8 | ······/· |
| O'm all wi' little tweil or ceaere. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| "Ov all His choicest gifts, His cry | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Is, 'Come, ye moneyless, and buy.' | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| Zoo blest is he that can but lift | 8 | ········ |
| His prayer vor a happy gift." | 7 | ····/˘· |
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.