The Quality of Courage
Black trees against an orange sky,Trees that the wind shook terribly,Like a harsh spume along the road,Quavering up like withered arms,Writhing like streams, like twisted charmsOf hot lead flung in snow. BelowThe iron ice stung like a goad,Slashing the torn shoes from my feet,And all the air was bitter sleet.
And all the land was cramped with snow,Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan,Like pale plains of obsidian.-- And yet I strove -- and I was fireAnd ice -- and fire and ice were oneIn one vast hunger of desire.A dim desire, of pleasant places,And lush fields in the summer sun,And logs aflame, and walls, and faces,-- And wine, and old ambrosial talk,A golden ball in fountains dancing,And unforgotten hands. (Ah, God,I trod them down where I have trod,And they remain, and they remain,Etched in unutterable pain,Loved lips and faces now apart,That once were closer than my heart --In agony, in agony,And horribly a part of me....For Lethe is for no man set,And in Hell may no man forget.)
And there were flowers, and jugs, bright-glancing,And old Italian swords -- and looks,A moment's glance of fire, of fire,Spiring, leaping, flaming higher,Into the intense, the cloudless blue,Until two souls were one, and flame,And very flesh, and yet the same!As if all springs were crushed anewInto one globed drop of dew!But for the most I thought of heat,Desiring greatly.... Hot white sandThe lazy body lies at rest in,Or sun-dried, scented grass to nest in,And fires, innumerable fires,Great fagots hurling golden gyresOf sparks far up, and the red heartIn sea-coals, crashing as they partTo tiny flares, and kindling snapping,Bunched sticks that burst their string and wrappingAnd fall like jackstraws; green and blueThe evil flames of driftwood too,And heavy, sullen lumps of cokeWith still, fierce heat and ugly smoke....... And then the vision of his face,And theirs, all theirs, came like a sword,Thrice, to the heart -- and as I fellI thought I saw a light before.
I woke. My hands were blue and sore,Torn on the ice. I scarcely feltThe frozen sleet begin to meltUpon my face as I breathed deeper,But lay there warmly, like a sleeperWho shifts his arm once, and moans low,And then sinks back to night. Slow, slow,And still as Death, came Sleep and DeathAnd looked at me with quiet breath.Unbending figures, black and starkAgainst the intense deeps of the dark.Tall and like trees. Like sweet and fireRest crept and crept along my veins,Gently. And there were no more pains....
Was it not better so to lie?The fight was done. Even gods tireOf fighting.... My way was the wrong.Now I should drift and drift alongTo endless quiet, golden peace...And let the tortured body cease.
And then a light winked like an eye.... And very many miles awayA girl stood at a warm, lit door,Holding a lamp. Ray upon rayIt cloaked the snow with perfect light.And where she was there was no nightNor could be, ever. God is sure,And in his hands are things secure.It is not given me to traceThe lovely laughter of that face,Like a clear brook most full of light,Or olives swaying on a height,So silver they have wings, almost;Like a great word once known and lostAnd meaning all things. Nor her voiceA happy sound where larks rejoice,Her body, that great loveliness,The tender fashion of her dress,I may not paint them.These I see,Blazing through all eternity,A fire-winged sign, a glorious tree!
She stood there, and at once I knewThe bitter thing that I must do.There could be no surrender now;Though Sleep and Death were whispering low.My way was wrong. So. Would it mendIf I shrank back before the end?And sank to death and cowardice?No, the last lees must be drained up,Base wine from an ignoble cup;(Yet not so base as sleek contentWhen I had shrunk from punishment)The wretched body strain anew!Life was a storm to wander through.I took the wrong way. Good and well,At least my feet sought out not Hell!Though night were one consuming flameI must go on for my base aim,And so, perhaps, make evil growTo something clean by agony...And reach that light upon the snow...And touch her dress at last...So, so,I crawled. I could not speak or seeSave dimly. The ice glared like fire,A long bright Hell of choking cold,And each vein was a tautened wire,Throbbing with torture -- and I crawled.My hands were wounds.So I attainedThe second Hell. The snow was stainedI thought, and shook my head at itHow red it was! Black tree-roots clutchedAnd tore -- and soon the snow was smutchedAnew; and I lurched babbling on,And then fell down to rest a bit,And came upon another Hell...Loose stones that ice made terrible,That rolled and gashed men as they fell.I stumbled, slipped... and all was goneThat I had gained. Once more I layBefore the long bright Hell of ice.And still the light was far away.There was red mist before my eyesOr I could tell you how I wentAcross the swaying firmament,A glittering torture of cold stars,And how I fought in Titan wars...And died... and lived again uponThe rack... and how the horses strainWhen their red task is nearly done....
I only know that there was Pain,Infinite and eternal Pain.And that I fell -- and rose again.
So she was walking in the road.And I stood upright like a man,Once, and fell blind, and heard her cry...And then there came long agony.There was no pain when I awoke,No pain at all. Rest, like a goad,Spurred my eyes open -- and light brokeUpon them like a million swords:And she was there. There are no words.
Heaven is for a moment's span.And ever.So I spoke and said,"My honor stands up unbetrayed,And I have seen you. Dear..."Sharp painClosed like a cloak....I moaned and died.
Here, even here, these things remain.I shall draw nearer to her side.
Oh dear and laughing, lost to me,Hidden in grey Eternity,I shall attain, with burning feet,To you and to the mercy-seat!The ages crumble down like dust,Dark roses, deviously thrustAnd scattered in sweet wine -- but I,I shall lift up to you my cry,And kiss your wet lips presentlyBeneath the ever-living Tree.
This in my heart I keep for goad!Somewhere, in Heaven she walks that road.Somewhere... in Heaven... she walks... that... road....
Words in this poem 31
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- sleet n.
- The part of a mortar extending from the chamber to the trunnions.
- obsidian n.
- A kind of glass produced by volcanoes. It is usually of a black color, and opaque, except in thin splinters. [L. Obsidianus lapis, so named, according to Pliny, after one Obsidius, who discovered it in Ethiopia: cf.F. obsidiane, obsidienne. The later editions of Pliny r]
- lush a.
- Full of juice or succulence. [Prob. an abbrev. of lushious, fr. luscious.]
- aflame adv.
- Inflames; glowing with light or passion; ablaze. G. Eliot. [Pref. a- + flame.]
- ambrosial a.
- Consisting of, or partaking of the nature of, ambrosia; delighting the taste or smell; delicious.
- closer n.
- One who, or that which, closes; specifically, a boot closer. See under Boot.
- horribly adv.
- In a manner to excite horror; dreadfully; terribly.
- lethe n.
- A river of Hades whose waters when drunk caused forgetfulness of the past.
- spiring a.
- Shooting up in a spire or spires.
- cloudless a.
- Without a cloud; clear; bright.
- crashing n.
- The noise of many things falling and breaking at once.
- snapping
- a. & n. from Snap, v. Snapping beetle. (Zoöl.) See Snap beetle, under Snap.
- driftwood n.
- Wood drifted or floated by water.
- sullen a.
- Lonely; solitary; desolate. Wyclif (Job iii. 14). [OE. solein, solain, lonely, sullen; through Old French fr. (assumed) LL. solanus solitary, fr. L. solus alone. See Sole, a.]
- warmly adv.
- In a warm manner; ardently.
- sleeper n.
- One who sleeps; a slumberer; hence, a drone, or lazy person.
- unbending a.
- Not bending; not suffering flexure; not yielding to pressure; stiff; -- applied to material things. [In senses 1, 2, and 3, pref. un- not + bending; in sense 4, properly p. pr. unbend.]
- stark adv.
- Wholly; entirely; absolutely; quite; as, stark mind.
- loveliness n.
- The state or quality of being lovely. [From Lovely.]
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- dimly adv.
- In a dim or obscure manner; not brightly or clearly; with imperfect sight.
- choking a.
- That chokes; producing the feeling of strangulation.
- tore n.
- The dead grass that remains on mowing land in winter and spring. Mortimer. [Probably from the root of tear; cf. W. tór a break, cut, tóri to break, cut.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- firmament n.
- Fixed foundation; established basis. [L. firmamentum, fr. firmare to make firm: cf. F. firmament. See Firm, v. & a.]
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- 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.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- presently adv.
- At present; at this time; now.
- somewhere adv.
- In some place unknown or not specified; in one place or another.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Quality of Courage 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, The Quality of Courage, in Young Adventure (1918), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #312, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/benet-young-adventure/the-quality-of-courage.html, id L13383.
Form and metre
The Quality of Courage is 184 lines in 13 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 92% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 36 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 26% 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 --ABB-ACC sky · terribly · roadA · armsB · charmsB · below · goadA · feetC · sleetC
- 2 -AABCBDCD--EEFFGG--HH snow · wanA · obsidianA · fireB · oneC · desireB · placesD · sunC · facesD · talk · dancing · godE · trodE · remainF · painF · apartG · heartG · agony · me · setH · forgetH
- 3 --AABCCBB--DD--EEFFBBGG---- glancing · looks · fireA · higherA · blueB · flameC · sameC · anewB · dewB · heat · sand · inD · inD · fires · gyres · heartE · partE · snappingF · wrappingF · blueB · tooB · cokeG · smokeG · face · sword · fell · before
- 4 -AABBCCDDEE-FF sore · feltA · meltA · deeperB · sleeperB · lowC · slowC · deathD · breathD · starkE · darkE · fire · veinsF · painsF
- 5 --AABB lie · tire · wrongA · alongA · peaceB · ceaseB
- 6 -A-ABBCCDDBB--EEFF-G-G eye · awayA · door · rayA · lightB · nightB · sureC · secureC · traceD · faceD · lightB · heightB · almost · lost · voiceE · rejoiceE · lovelinessF · dressF · them · seeG · eternity · treeG
- 7 AA--BB-CC--DDEEFFG-G-G-H-H--IIJKK-JLLL-M-M-NN----- knewA · doA · now · low · mendB · endB · cowardice · upC · cupC · content · punishment · anewD · throughD · wellE · hellE · flameF · aimF · growG · agony · snowG · last · soG · see · fireH · cold · wireH · crawled · wounds · attainedI · stainedI · itJ · clutchedK · smutchedK · on · bitJ · hellL · terribleL · fellL · gone · layM · ice · awayM · eyes · wentN · firmamentN · stars · wars · upon · strain · done
- 8 AAA painA · painA · againA
- 9 A---BAB-- roadA · man · cry · agony · awokeB · goadA · brokeB · swords · words
- 12 A-BBCCDD-A meA · eternity · feetB · seatB · dustC · thrustC · iD · cryD · presently · treeA
- 13 AAA goadA · roadA · roadA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Black trees against an orange sky, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Trees that the wind shook terribly, | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Like a harsh spume along the road, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Quavering up like withered arms, | 8 | /˘˘··/˘· |
| Writhing like streams, like twisted charms | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| Of hot lead flung in snow. Below | 8 | ········ |
| The iron ice stung like a goad, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Slashing the torn shoes from my feet, | 8 | /˘······ |
| And all the air was bitter sleet. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And all the land was cramped with snow, | 8 | ········ |
| Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Like pale plains of obsidian. | 8 | ····˘/˘˘ |
| -- And yet I strove -- and I was fire | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And ice -- and fire and ice were one | 8 | ···/···· |
| In one vast hunger of desire. | 9 | ···/˘·˘/˘ |
| A dim desire, of pleasant places, | 9 | ··˘/·/˘/˘ |
| And lush fields in the summer sun, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And logs aflame, and walls, and faces, | 9 | ··˘/···/˘ |
| -- And wine, and old ambrosial talk, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| A golden ball in fountains dancing, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘/˘ |
| And unforgotten hands. (Ah, God, | 8 | ········ |
| I trod them down where I have trod, | 8 | ········ |
| And they remain, and they remain, | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| Etched in unutterable pain, | 8 | ··˘/˘˘˘· |
| Loved lips and faces now apart, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| That once were closer than my heart -- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| In agony, in agony, | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘˘ |
| And horribly a part of me.... | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| For Lethe is for no man set, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And in Hell may no man forget.) | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And there were flowers, and jugs, bright-glancing, | 9 | ···/···/˘ |
| And old Italian swords -- and looks, | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| A moment's glance of fire, of fire, | 9 | ·/˘··/·/˘ |
| Spiring, leaping, flaming higher, | 8 | /˘/˘/˘/˘ |
| Into the intense, the cloudless blue, | 9 | ···˘/·/˘· |
| Until two souls were one, and flame, | 8 | ········ |
| And very flesh, and yet the same! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| As if all springs were crushed anew | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Into one globed drop of dew! | 8 | ····˘··· |
| But for the most I thought of heat, | 8 | ········ |
| Desiring greatly.... Hot white sand | 8 | ˘/˘/˘··· |
| The lazy body lies at rest in, | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Or sun-dried, scented grass to nest in, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And fires, innumerable fires, | 9 | ·/˘/˘˘˘/˘ |
| Great fagots hurling golden gyres | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Of sparks far up, and the red heart | 8 | ········ |
| In sea-coals, crashing as they part | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| To tiny flares, and kindling snapping, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Bunched sticks that burst their string and wrapping | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And fall like jackstraws; green and blue | 8 | ········ |
| The evil flames of driftwood too, | 8 | ·/˘··/·· |
| And heavy, sullen lumps of coke | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| With still, fierce heat and ugly smoke.... | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| ... And then the vision of his face, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And theirs, all theirs, came like a sword, | 8 | ········ |
| Thrice, to the heart -- and as I fell | 8 | ········ |
| I thought I saw a light before. | 8 | ········ |
| I woke. My hands were blue and sore, | 8 | ········ |
| Torn on the ice. I scarcely felt | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The frozen sleet begin to melt | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| Upon my face as I breathed deeper, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| But lay there warmly, like a sleeper | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Who shifts his arm once, and moans low, | 8 | ········ |
| And then sinks back to night. Slow, slow, | 8 | ········ |
| And still as Death, came Sleep and Death | 8 | ········ |
| And looked at me with quiet breath. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Unbending figures, black and stark | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Against the intense deeps of the dark. | 9 | ···˘/···· |
| Tall and like trees. Like sweet and fire | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Rest crept and crept along my veins, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Gently. And there were no more pains.... | 8 | /˘······ |
| Was it not better so to lie? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The fight was done. Even gods tire | 9 | ····/˘·/˘ |
| Of fighting.... My way was the wrong. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Now I should drift and drift along | 8 | ······˘/ |
| To endless quiet, golden peace... | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| And let the tortured body cease. | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And then a light winked like an eye. | 8 | ········ |
| ... And very many miles away | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| A girl stood at a warm, lit door, | 8 | ········ |
| Holding a lamp. Ray upon ray | 8 | /˘······ |
| It cloaked the snow with perfect light. | 8 | ·····˘/· |
| And where she was there was no night | 8 | ········ |
| Nor could be, ever. God is sure, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And in his hands are things secure. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| It is not given me to trace | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The lovely laughter of that face, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Like a clear brook most full of light, | 8 | ········ |
| Or olives swaying on a height, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| So silver they have wings, almost; | 8 | ·/˘···/· |
| Like a great word once known and lost | 8 | ········ |
| And meaning all things. Nor her voice | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| A happy sound where larks rejoice, | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Her body, that great loveliness, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| The tender fashion of her dress, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| I may not paint them. | 5 | ····· |
| These I see, | 3 | ··· |
| Blazing through all eternity, | 8 | /˘··˘/˘˘ |
| A fire-winged sign, a glorious tree! | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| She stood there, and at once I knew | 8 | ········ |
| The bitter thing that I must do. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| There could be no surrender now; | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Though Sleep and Death were whispering low. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| My way was wrong. So. Would it mend | 8 | ········ |
| If I shrank back before the end? | 8 | ········ |
| And sank to death and cowardice? | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| No, the last lees must be drained up, | 8 | ········ |
| Base wine from an ignoble cup; | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| (Yet not so base as sleek content | 8 | ······/˘ |
| When I had shrunk from punishment) | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| The wretched body strain anew! | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Life was a storm to wander through. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I took the wrong way. Good and well, | 8 | ········ |
| At least my feet sought out not Hell! | 8 | ········ |
| Though night were one consuming flame | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| I must go on for my base aim, | 8 | ········ |
| And so, perhaps, make evil grow | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| To something clean by agony... | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| And reach that light upon the snow... | 8 | ········ |
| And touch her dress at last... | 6 | ······ |
| So, so, | 2 | ·· |
| I crawled. I could not speak or see | 8 | ········ |
| Save dimly. The ice glared like fire, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| A long bright Hell of choking cold, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And each vein was a tautened wire, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Throbbing with torture -- and I crawled. | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| My hands were wounds. | 4 | ···· |
| So I attained | 4 | ··˘/ |
| The second Hell. The snow was stained | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I thought, and shook my head at it | 8 | ········ |
| How red it was! Black tree-roots clutched | 8 | ········ |
| And tore -- and soon the snow was smutched | 8 | ········ |
| Anew; and I lurched babbling on, | 8 | ˘/···/˘· |
| And then fell down to rest a bit, | 8 | ········ |
| And came upon another Hell... | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Loose stones that ice made terrible, | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| That rolled and gashed men as they fell. | 8 | ········ |
| I stumbled, slipped... and all was gone | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That I had gained. Once more I lay | 8 | ········ |
| Before the long bright Hell of ice. | 8 | ········ |
| And still the light was far away. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| There was red mist before my eyes | 8 | ········ |
| Or I could tell you how I went | 8 | ········ |
| Across the swaying firmament, | 8 | ˘/·/˘/˘˘ |
| A glittering torture of cold stars, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And how I fought in Titan wars... | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And died... and lived again upon | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| The rack... and how the horses strain | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| When their red task is nearly done.... | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I only know that there was Pain, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Infinite and eternal Pain. | 8 | /˘˘·˘/˘· |
| And that I fell -- and rose again. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| So she was walking in the road. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And I stood upright like a man, | 8 | ···˘/··· |
| Once, and fell blind, and heard her cry... | 8 | ········ |
| And then there came long agony. | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| There was no pain when I awoke, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| No pain at all. Rest, like a goad, | 8 | ········ |
| Spurred my eyes open -- and light broke | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Upon them like a million swords: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And she was there. There are no words. | 8 | ········ |
| Heaven is for a moment's span. | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| And ever. | 3 | ·/˘ |
| So I spoke and said, | 5 | ····· |
| "My honor stands up unbetrayed, | 8 | ·/˘····˘ |
| And I have seen you. Dear..." | 6 | ······ |
| Sharp pain | 2 | ·· |
| Closed like a cloak.... | 4 | ···· |
| I moaned and died. | 4 | ···· |
| Here, even here, these things remain. | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| I shall draw nearer to her side. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Oh dear and laughing, lost to me, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Hidden in grey Eternity, | 8 | /˘··˘/˘˘ |
| I shall attain, with burning feet, | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| To you and to the mercy-seat! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The ages crumble down like dust, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Dark roses, deviously thrust | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| And scattered in sweet wine -- but I, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I shall lift up to you my cry, | 8 | ········ |
| And kiss your wet lips presently | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Beneath the ever-living Tree. | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| This in my heart I keep for goad! | 8 | ········ |
| Somewhere, in Heaven she walks that road. | 8 | /··/···· |
| Somewhere... in Heaven... she walks... that... road.... | 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.