The Disinterred Warrior
Gather him to his grave again,And solemnly and softly lay,Beneath the verdure of the plain,The warrior's scattered bones away.Pay the deep reverence, taught of old,The homage of man's heart to death;Nor dare to trifle with the mouldOnce hallowed by the Almighty's breath.
The soul hath quickened every part--That remnant of a martial brow,Those ribs that held the mighty heart,That strong arm--strong no longer now.Spare them, each mouldering relic spare,Of God's own image; let them rest,Till not a trace shall speak of whereThe awful likeness was impressed.
For he was fresher from the handThat formed of earth the human face,And to the elements did standIn nearer kindred, than our race.In many a flood to madness tossed,In many a storm has been his path;He hid him not from heat or frost,But met them, and defied their wrath.
Then they were kind--the forests here,Rivers, and stiller waters, paidA tribute to the net and spearOf the red ruler of the shade.Fruits on the woodland branches lay,Roots in the shaded soil below,The stars looked forth to teach his way,The still earth warned him of the foe.
A noble race! but they are gone,With their old forests wide and deep,And we have built our homes uponFields where their generations sleep.Their fountains slake our thirst at noon,Upon their fields our harvest waves,Our lovers woo beneath their moon--Then let us spare, at least, their graves!
Words in this poem
- mould n.
- Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
- 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,]
- stiller n.
- One who stills, or quiets.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Disinterred Warrior 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, The Disinterred Warrior, in Poems (1821–1876), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16341, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bryant-poems/the-disinterred-warrior.html, id L07302.
Form and metre
The Disinterred Warrior is 40 lines in 5 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 4 of its 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%). 89% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.5 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 18% 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 ABABCDCD againA · layB · plainA · awayB · oldC · deathD · mouldC · breathD
- 2 ABABCDCD partA · browB · heartA · nowB · spareC · restD · whereC · impressedD
- 3 ABABCDCD handA · faceB · standA · raceB · tossedC · pathD · frostC · wrathD
- 4 ABABCDCD hereA · paidB · spearA · shadeB · layC · belowD · wayC · foeD
- 5 -A-ABCBC gone · deepA · upon · sleepA · noonB · wavesC · moonB · gravesC
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Gather him to his grave again, | 8 | /˘····˘/ |
| And solemnly and softly lay, | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘· |
| Beneath the verdure of the plain, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The warrior's scattered bones away. | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Pay the deep reverence, taught of old, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The homage of man's heart to death; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Nor dare to trifle with the mould | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Once hallowed by the Almighty's breath. | 9 | ·/˘··˘/˘· |
| The soul hath quickened every part-- | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| That remnant of a martial brow, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Those ribs that held the mighty heart, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That strong arm--strong no longer now. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Spare them, each mouldering relic spare, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Of God's own image; let them rest, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Till not a trace shall speak of where | 8 | ········ |
| The awful likeness was impressed. | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| For he was fresher from the hand | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That formed of earth the human face, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And to the elements did stand | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| In nearer kindred, than our race. | 8 | ·/˘/˘·/· |
| In many a flood to madness tossed, | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| In many a storm has been his path; | 8 | ·/······ |
| He hid him not from heat or frost, | 8 | ········ |
| But met them, and defied their wrath. | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Then they were kind--the forests here, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Rivers, and stiller waters, paid | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘· |
| A tribute to the net and spear | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Of the red ruler of the shade. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Fruits on the woodland branches lay, | 8 | ···/·/˘· |
| Roots in the shaded soil below, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The stars looked forth to teach his way, | 8 | ········ |
| The still earth warned him of the foe. | 8 | ········ |
| A noble race! but they are gone, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| With their old forests wide and deep, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And we have built our homes upon | 8 | ····/··· |
| Fields where their generations sleep. | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Their fountains slake our thirst at noon, | 8 | ·/˘·/··· |
| Upon their fields our harvest waves, | 8 | ····//˘· |
| Our lovers woo beneath their moon-- | 8 | //˘····· |
| Then let us spare, at least, their graves! | 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.