An Epitaph
Here lies Greer Harrison, a well cracked louse--So small a tenant of so big a house!He joyed in fighting with his eyes (his fistPrudently pendent from a peaceful wrist)And loved to loll on the Parnassian mount,His pen to suck and all his thumbs to count,--What poetry he'd written but for lackOf skill, when he had counted, to count back!Alas, no more he'll climb the sacred steepTo wake the lyre and put the world to sleep!To his rapt lip his soul no longer springsAnd like a jaybird from a knot-hole sings.No more the clubmen, pickled with his wine,Spread wide their ears and hiccough "That's divine!"The genius of his purse no longer drawsThe pleasing thunders of a paid applause.All silent now, nor sound nor sense remains,Though riddances of worms improve his brains.All his no talents to the earth revert,And Fame concludes the record: "Dirt to dirt!"
Words in this poem
- cracked a.
- Coarsely ground or broken; as, cracked wheat.
- prudently adv.
- In a prudent manner.
- loll v. i.
- To act lazily or indolently; to recline; to lean; to throw one's self down; to lie at ease. [Cf. Icel. lolla to act lazily, loll, lolla, laziness, OD. lollen to sit over the fire, and E. lull. Cf. Lill, Lull.]
- parnassian a.
- Of or pertaining to Parnassus. [L. Parnassius.]
- rapt n.
- An ecstasy; a trance. Bp. Morton. [From F. rapt abduction, rape, L. raptus, fr. rapere to seize and carry off, to transport; or fr. E. rapt, a. See Rapt, a., and Rapid.]
- revert v. t.
- To turn back, or to the contrary; to reverse. [L. revertere, reversum; pref. re- re- + vertere to turn: cf. OF. revertir. See Verse, and cf. Reverse.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
An Epitaph is in the public domain. This text is taken from Shapes of Clay (1903), Project Gutenberg ebook #12658; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Ambrose Bierce, An Epitaph, in Shapes of Clay (1903), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #12658, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bierce-shapes-of-clay/an-epitaph.html, id L28030.
Form and metre
An Epitaph is 20 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets: heroic couplets. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%).
See other poems in heroic couplets, 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 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ louseA · houseA · fistB · wristB · mountC · countC · lackD · backD · steepE · sleepE · springsF · singsF · wineG · divineG · drawsH · applauseH · remainsI · brainsI · revertJ · dirtJ
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Here lies Greer Harrison, a well cracked louse-- | 10 | ···/˘˘···· |
| So small a tenant of so big a house! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| He joyed in fighting with his eyes (his fist | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Prudently pendent from a peaceful wrist) | 10 | /˘˘/˘··/˘· |
| And loved to loll on the Parnassian mount, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| His pen to suck and all his thumbs to count,-- | 10 | ·········· |
| What poetry he'd written but for lack | 10 | ·/˘˘·/˘··· |
| Of skill, when he had counted, to count back! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Alas, no more he'll climb the sacred steep | 10 | ˘/·····/˘· |
| To wake the lyre and put the world to sleep! | 10 | ·········· |
| To his rapt lip his soul no longer springs | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And like a jaybird from a knot-hole sings. | 10 | ·········· |
| No more the clubmen, pickled with his wine, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Spread wide their ears and hiccough "That's divine!" | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| The genius of his purse no longer draws | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| The pleasing thunders of a paid applause. | 10 | ·/˘/˘···˘/ |
| All silent now, nor sound nor sense remains, | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Though riddances of worms improve his brains. | 10 | ·/˘˘··˘/·· |
| All his no talents to the earth revert, | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| And Fame concludes the record: "Dirt to dirt!" | 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.