A Song of Similes
On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;Could I describe her shape and mein;Our lasses a’ she far excels,An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
She’s sweeter than the morning dawn,When rising Phoebus first is seen,And dew-drops twinkle o’er the lawn;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
She’s stately like yon youthful ash,That grows the cowslip braes between,And drinks the stream with vigour fresh;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
She’s spotless like the flow’ring thorn,With flow’rs so white and leaves so green,When purest in the dewy morn;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her looks are like the vernal May,When ev’ning Phoebus shines serene,While birds rejoice on every spray;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her hair is like the curling mist,That climbs the mountain-sides at e’en,When flow’r-reviving rains are past;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her forehead’s like the show’ry bow,When gleaming sunbeams interveneAnd gild the distant mountain’s brow;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,The pride of all the flowery scene,Just opening on its thorny stem;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her bosom’s like the nightly snow,When pale the morning rises keen,While hid the murm’ring streamlets flow;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,That sunny walls from Boreas screen;They tempt the taste and charm the sight;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,With fleeces newly washen clean,That slowly mount the rising steep;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her breath is like the fragrant breeze,That gently stirs the blossom’d bean,When Phoebus sinks behind the seas;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Her voice is like the ev’ning thrush,That sings on Cessnock banks unseen,While his mate sits nestling in the bush;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
But it’s not her air, her form, her face,Tho’ matching beauty’s fabled queen;’Tis the mind that shines in ev’ry grace,An’ chiefly in her roguish een.
Words in this poem
- lassie n.
- A young girl; a lass.
- phoebus n.
- Apollo; the sun god.
- twinkle v. i.
- To open and shut the eye rapidly; to blink; to wink. [OE. twinklen, AS. twinclian; akin to OE. twinken to blink, wink, G. zwinken, zwinkern, and perhaps to E. twitch.]
- cowslip n.
- A common flower in England (Primula veris) having yellow blossoms and appearing in early spring. It is often cultivated in the United States. [AS. c, c, prob. orig., cow's droppings. Cf. Slop, n.]
- vigour v. t.
- To invigorate. Feltham.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- nightly a.
- Of or pertaining to the night, or to every night; happening or done by night, or every night; as, nightly shades; he kept nightly vigils.
- sunny a.
- Of or pertaining to the sun; proceeding from, or resembling the sun; hence, shining; bright; brilliant; radiant.
- boreas n.
- The north wind; -- usually a personification. [L. boreas, Gr. .]
- unseen a.
- Not seen or discovered.
- nestling n.
- A young bird which has not abandoned the nest. Piers Plowman.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Song of Similes is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, Project Gutenberg ebook #1279; 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 Burns, A Song of Similes, in Poems and Songs (1786–1796), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1279, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/burns-poems/a-song-of-similes.html, id L02927.
Form and metre
A Song of Similes is 56 lines in 14 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 10 of its 14 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.3 syllables.
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 ABAB dwellsA · meinB · excelsA · eenB
- 2 ABAB dawnA · seenB · lawnA · eenB
- 3 -A-A ash · betweenA · fresh · eenA
- 4 ABAB thornA · greenB · mornA · eenB
- 5 ABAB mayA · sereneB · sprayA · eenB
- 6 -A-A mist · e'enA · past · eenA
- 7 ABAB bowA · interveneB · browA · eenB
- 8 ABAB gemA · sceneB · stemA · eenB
- 9 ABAB snowA · keenB · flowA · eenB
- 10 -A-A ripe · screenA · sight · eenA
- 11 ABAB sheepA · cleanB · steepA · eenB
- 12 ABAB breezeA · beanB · seasA · eenB
- 13 -A-A thrush · unseenA · bush · eenA
- 14 ABAB faceA · queenB · graceA · eenB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Could I describe her shape and mein; | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| Our lasses a’ she far excels, | 8 | //˘···˘/ |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| She’s sweeter than the morning dawn, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| When rising Phoebus first is seen, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And dew-drops twinkle o’er the lawn; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| She’s stately like yon youthful ash, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| That grows the cowslip braes between, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And drinks the stream with vigour fresh; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| She’s spotless like the flow’ring thorn, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| With flow’rs so white and leaves so green, | 8 | ········ |
| When purest in the dewy morn; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her looks are like the vernal May, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| When ev’ning Phoebus shines serene, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| While birds rejoice on every spray; | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her hair is like the curling mist, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That climbs the mountain-sides at e’en, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| When flow’r-reviving rains are past; | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her forehead’s like the show’ry bow, | 8 | ·/······ |
| When gleaming sunbeams intervene | 8 | ·/˘/··˘/ |
| And gild the distant mountain’s brow; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The pride of all the flowery scene, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Just opening on its thorny stem; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her bosom’s like the nightly snow, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| When pale the morning rises keen, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| While hid the murm’ring streamlets flow; | 8 | ········ |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her lips are like yon cherries ripe, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That sunny walls from Boreas screen; | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| They tempt the taste and charm the sight; | 8 | ········ |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, | 8 | ········ |
| With fleeces newly washen clean, | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| That slowly mount the rising steep; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her breath is like the fragrant breeze, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That gently stirs the blossom’d bean, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| When Phoebus sinks behind the seas; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Her voice is like the ev’ning thrush, | 8 | ········ |
| That sings on Cessnock banks unseen, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| While his mate sits nestling in the bush; | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| But it’s not her air, her form, her face, | 9 | ········· |
| Tho’ matching beauty’s fabled queen; | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| ’Tis the mind that shines in ev’ry grace, | 9 | ········· |
| An’ chiefly in her roguish een. | 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.