Poor Devil!
Well, I was tired of life; the silly folk,The tiresome noises, all the common thingsI loved once, crushed me with an iron yoke.I longed for the cool quiet and the dark,Under the common sod where louts and kingsLie down, serene, unheeding, careless, stark,Never to rise or move or feel again,Filled with the ecstasy of being dead....
I put the shining pistol to my headAnd pulled the trigger hard -- I felt no pain,No pain at all; the pistol had missed fireI thought; then, looking at the floor, I sawMy huddled body lying there -- and aweSwept over me. I trembled -- and looked up.About me was -- not that, my heart's desire,That small and dark abode of death and peace --But all from which I sought a vain release!The sky, the people and the staring sunGlared at me as before. I was undone.My last state ten times worse than was my first.Helpless I stood, befooled, betrayed, accursed,Fettered to Life forever, horribly;Caught in the meshes of Eternity,No further doors to break or bars to burst!
Words in this poem
- folk n.
- In Anglo-Saxon times, the people of a group of townships or villages; a community; a tribe. [AS. folc; akin to D. volk, OS. & OHG. folk, G. volk, Icel. f, Sw. & Dan. folk, Lith. pulkas crowd, and perh. to E. follow.]
- stark adv.
- Wholly; entirely; absolutely; quite; as, stark mind.
- abode n.
- Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
- undone a.
- Not done or performed; neglected. [Pref. un- not + done.]
- fettered a.
- Seeming as if fettered, as the feet pf certain animals which bend backward, and appear unfit for walking.
- horribly adv.
- In a manner to excite horror; dreadfully; terribly.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Poor Devil! is in the public domain. This text is taken from Young Adventure: A Book of Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #312; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Stephen Vincent Benét, Poor Devil!, in Young Adventure (1918), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #312, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/benet-young-adventure/poor-devil.html, id L13392.
Form and metre
Poor Devil! is 24 lines in 2 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 29% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ABACBC-- folkA · thingsB · yokeA · darkC · kingsB · starkC · again · dead
- 2 --ABB-ACCDDEE--E head · pain · fireA · sawB · aweB · up · desireA · peaceC · releaseC · sunD · undoneD · firstE · accursedE · horribly · eternity · burstE
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Well, I was tired of life; the silly folk, | 10 | ···/···/˘· |
| The tiresome noises, all the common things | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| I loved once, crushed me with an iron yoke. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I longed for the cool quiet and the dark, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Under the common sod where louts and kings | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Lie down, serene, unheeding, careless, stark, | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| Never to rise or move or feel again, | 10 | /˘······˘/ |
| Filled with the ecstasy of being dead.... | 10 | ···/˘˘·/˘· |
| I put the shining pistol to my head | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| And pulled the trigger hard -- I felt no pain, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| No pain at all; the pistol had missed fire | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| I thought; then, looking at the floor, I saw | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| My huddled body lying there -- and awe | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘··· |
| Swept over me. I trembled -- and looked up. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| About me was -- not that, my heart's desire, | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| That small and dark abode of death and peace -- | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| But all from which I sought a vain release! | 10 | ········˘/ |
| The sky, the people and the staring sun | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Glared at me as before. I was undone. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| My last state ten times worse than was my first. | 10 | ·········· |
| Helpless I stood, befooled, betrayed, accursed, | 10 | /˘····˘/·· |
| Fettered to Life forever, horribly; | 10 | /˘··˘/˘/˘˘ |
| Caught in the meshes of Eternity, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘˘ |
| No further doors to break or bars to burst! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
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.