A Presentiment

William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878) · 1821–1876

iambic tetrameter · ABABCC · 24 lines · from Poems

"Oh father, let us hence--for hark,A fearful murmur shakes the air.The clouds are coming swift and dark:--What horrid shapes they wear!A winged giant sails the sky;Oh father, father, let us fly!"

"Hush, child; it is a grateful sound,That beating of the summer shower;Here, where the boughs hang close around,We'll pass a pleasant hour,Till the fresh wind, that brings the rain,Has swept the broad heaven clear again."

"Nay, father, let us haste--for see,That horrid thing with horned brow,--His wings o'erhang this very tree,He scowls upon us now;His huge black arm is lifted high;Oh father, father, let us fly!"

"Hush, child;" but, as the father spoke,Downward the livid firebolt came,Close to his ear the thunder broke,And, blasted by the flame,The child lay dead; while dark and still,Swept the grim cloud along the hill.

Words in this poem

horrid a.
Rough; rugged; bristling. [L. horridus. See Horror, and cf. Ordure.]
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.]
broke v. i.
To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
blasted a.
Blighted; withered.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

A Presentiment is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems by William Cullen Bryant, Project Gutenberg ebook #16341; 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 Cullen Bryant, A Presentiment, in Poems (1821–1876), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16341, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bryant-poems/a-presentiment.html, id L07351.

Form and metre

A Presentiment is 24 lines in 4 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABCC. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.8 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending.

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. 1 ABABCC harkA · airB · darkA · wearB · skyC · flyC
  2. 2 ABABCC soundA · showerB · aroundA · hourB · rainC · againC
  3. 3 ABABCC seeA · browB · treeA · nowB · highC · flyC
  4. 4 ABABCC spokeA · cameB · brokeA · flameB · stillC · hillC
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.

LineSyl.Stress
"Oh father, let us hence--for hark,8·/˘·····
A fearful murmur shakes the air.8·/˘/˘···
The clouds are coming swift and dark:--8···/˘···
What horrid shapes they wear!6·/˘···
A winged giant sails the sky;7··/˘···
Oh father, father, let us fly!"8·/˘/˘···
"Hush, child; it is a grateful sound,8·····/˘·
That beating of the summer shower;9·/˘··/˘/˘
Here, where the boughs hang close around,8········
We'll pass a pleasant hour,7···/˘/˘
Till the fresh wind, that brings the rain,8········
Has swept the broad heaven clear again."9····/˘·˘/
"Nay, father, let us haste--for see,8·/˘·····
That horrid thing with horned brow,--7·/˘····
His wings o'erhang this very tree,8·····/˘·
He scowls upon us now;6······
His huge black arm is lifted high;8·····/˘·
Oh father, father, let us fly!"8·/˘/˘···
"Hush, child;" but, as the father spoke,8·····/˘·
Downward the livid firebolt came,9/˘·/˘····
Close to his ear the thunder broke,8·····/˘·
And, blasted by the flame,6·/˘···
The child lay dead; while dark and still,8········
Swept the grim cloud along the hill.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.

More by William Cullen Bryant