The Flower's Name
Here's the garden she walked across,Arm in my arm, such a short while since;Hark, now I push its wicket, the mossHinders the hinges and makes them wince!She must have reached this shrub ere she turned,As back with that murmur the wicket swung;For she laid the poor snail, my chance foot spurned,To feed and forget it the leaves among.
Down this side of the gravel-walkShe went while her robe's edge brushed the box;And here she paused in her gracious talkTo point me a moth on the milk-white phlox.Roses, ranged in valiant row,I will never think that she passed you by!She loves you, noble roses, I know;But yonder, see, where the rock-plants lie!
This flower she stopped at, finger on lip,Stooped over, in doubt, as settling its claim;Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip,Its soft meandering Spanish name.What a name! Was it love or praise?Speech half-asleep or song half-awake?I must learn Spanish, one of these days,Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
Roses, if I live and do well,I may bring her, one of these days,To fix you fast with as fine a spell,Fit you each with his Spanish phrase;But do not detain me now; for she lingersThere, like sunshine over the ground,And ever I see her soft white fingersSearching after the bud she found.
Flower, you Spaniard, look that you grow not;Stay as you are and be loved forever!Bud, if I kiss you 'tis that you blow not;Mind, the shut pink month opens never!For while it pouts, her fingers wrestle,Twinkling the audacious leaves between,Till round they turn and down they nestle--Is not the dear mark still to be seen?
Where I find her not, beauties vanish;Whither I follow her, beauties flee;Is there no method to tell her in SpanishJune's twice June since she breathed it with me?Come, bud, show me the least of her traces,Treasure my lady's lightest footfall!--Ah, you may flout and turn up your faces--Roses, you are not so fair after all!
Words in this poem
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- phlox n.
- A genus of American herbs, having showy red, white, or purple flowers. Phlox worm (Zoöl.), the larva of an American moth (Heliothis phloxiphaga). It is destructive to phloxes.
- valiant a.
- Vigorous in body; strong; powerful; as, a valiant fencer. [OE. valiant, F. vaillant, OF. vaillant, valant, originally p. pr. of OF. & F. valoir to be worth, L. valere to be strong. See Wield, and cf. Avail, Convalesce, ]
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
- settling n.
- The act of one who, or that which, settles; the act of establishing one's self, of colonizing, subsiding, adjusting, etc.
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
- spaniard n.
- A native or inhabitant of Spain.
- wrestle v. i.
- To contend, by grappling with, and striving to trip or throw down, an opponent; as, they wrestled skillfully. [OE. wrestlen, wrastlen, AS. wr, freq. of wr to wrest; akin to OD. wrastelen to wrestle. See Wrest, v. t.]
- twinkling n.
- The act of one who, or of that which, twinkles; a quick movement of the eye; a wink; a twinkle. Holland.
- nestle v. i.
- To make and occupy a nest; to nest. [AS. nestlian.]
- whither adv.
- To what place; -- used interrogatively; as, whither goest thou [OE. whider. AS. hwider; akin to E. where, who; cf. Goth. hvadre whither. See Who, and cf. Hither, Thither.]
- footfall n.
- A setting down of the foot; a footstep; the sound of a footstep.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Flower's Name is in the public domain. This text is taken from Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning, Project Gutenberg ebook #28041; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Browning, The Flower's Name, in Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning (1864), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #28041, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/browning-selections/the-flower-s-name.html, id L25082.
Form and metre
The Flower's Name is 48 lines in 6 stanzas of 8 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABCDCD. The metre is trochaic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 70%).
See other poems in trochaic 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 ABABCDCD acrossA · sinceB · mossA · winceB · turnedC · swungD · spurnedC · amongD
- 2 ABABCDCD walkA · boxB · talkA · phloxB · rowC · byD · knowC · lieD
- 3 ABABCDCD lipA · claimB · slipA · nameB · praiseC · awakeD · daysC · sakeD
- 4 ABABCDCD wellA · daysB · spellA · phraseB · lingersC · groundD · fingersC · foundD
- 5 ABABCDCD notA · foreverB · notA · neverB · wrestleC · betweenD · nestleC · seenD
- 6 ABABCDCD vanishA · fleeB · spanishA · meB · tracesC · footfallD · facesC · allD
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 trochaic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Here's the garden she walked across, | 9 | ··/˘··˘˘/ |
| Arm in my arm, such a short while since; | 9 | ········· |
| Hark, now I push its wicket, the moss | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Hinders the hinges and makes them wince! | 9 | /˘·/˘···· |
| She must have reached this shrub ere she turned, | 10 | ····˘····· |
| As back with that murmur the wicket swung; | 10 | ····/˘·/˘· |
| For she laid the poor snail, my chance foot spurned, | 10 | ·········· |
| To feed and forget it the leaves among. | 10 | ···˘/····· |
| Down this side of the gravel-walk | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| She went while her robe's edge brushed the box; | 10 | ·······˘·· |
| And here she paused in her gracious talk | 10 | ····˘··/˘· |
| To point me a moth on the milk-white phlox. | 10 | ·········· |
| Roses, ranged in valiant row, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| I will never think that she passed you by! | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| She loves you, noble roses, I know; | 9 | ···/˘/˘·· |
| But yonder, see, where the rock-plants lie! | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| This flower she stopped at, finger on lip, | 10 | ·/˘···/˘·· |
| Stooped over, in doubt, as settling its claim; | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| Till she gave me, with pride to make no slip, | 10 | ·········· |
| Its soft meandering Spanish name. | 9 | ··˘/˘˘/˘· |
| What a name! Was it love or praise? | 8 | ········ |
| Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? | 9 | ··˘/···˘/ |
| I must learn Spanish, one of these days, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Only for that slow sweet name's sake. | 8 | /˘······ |
| Roses, if I live and do well, | 8 | /˘······ |
| I may bring her, one of these days, | 8 | ········ |
| To fix you fast with as fine a spell, | 9 | ········· |
| Fit you each with his Spanish phrase; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But do not detain me now; for she lingers | 11 | ···˘/····/˘ |
| There, like sunshine over the ground, | 8 | ··/····· |
| And ever I see her soft white fingers | 10 | ·/˘·····/˘ |
| Searching after the bud she found. | 8 | /˘······ |
| Flower, you Spaniard, look that you grow not; | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| Stay as you are and be loved forever! | 10 | ·······˘/˘ |
| Bud, if I kiss you 'tis that you blow not; | 10 | ·········· |
| Mind, the shut pink month opens never! | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| For while it pouts, her fingers wrestle, | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Twinkling the audacious leaves between, | 10 | /˘˘·˘/˘··· |
| Till round they turn and down they nestle-- | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Is not the dear mark still to be seen? | 9 | ········· |
| Where I find her not, beauties vanish; | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Whither I follow her, beauties flee; | 9 | /˘·/˘·/˘· |
| Is there no method to tell her in Spanish | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
| June's twice June since she breathed it with me? | 10 | ······˘··· |
| Come, bud, show me the least of her traces, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Treasure my lady's lightest footfall! | 9 | /˘·/˘/˘/· |
| --Ah, you may flout and turn up your faces-- | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Roses, you are not so fair after all! | 10 | /˘········ |
On this poem
Notes from the edition 1
Notes by Myra Reynolds, Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning (Project Gutenberg #28041).
- Stanza 2, line 2 Box. An evergreen shrub, dwarf varieties of which are used for low hedges or the borders of flower-beds.
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.