A Nocturne of Rubinstein
What now remains, what now remains but night?Night hopeless, since the moon is in her grave!
Late came a glorious lightIn one wide flood on spire and field and wave.It found a flowing wayTo secret places where the dead leaves lay;It won the half-hid streamTo shy remembrance of her morning gleam;Then on the sky’s sharp shoreRolled back, a fading tide, and was no more.No more on spire and ivied window bright!No more on field and wave!
What now remains, what now remains but night?Night hopeless, since the moon is in her grave!
Dumb waits the dim, broad land,Like one who hears, yet cannot understand,Tidings of grief to come.The woods and waters, with the winds, are dumb.But now a breeze has foundSorrowful voice, and sobs along the ground:“Oh, the lost light, the last, the best lost light!No more on field and wave!”
What now remains, what now remains but night?Night hopeless, since the moon is in her grave!
Hark, how the wind outswells,Tempting the wood’s dark heart till he rebels,And, shaking his black hair,Lifts up a cry of passion and despair!The groaning branches chafeTill scarce the small, hushed singing-birds are safe,Tossed rocking in the nest,Like gentle memories in a stormy breast.A shudder, as good angels passed in flight,Thrills over field and wave.
What now remains, what now remains but night?Night lawless, while the moon is in her grave!
There falls a mighty hush:And forth from far recesses fern-scents rush,Faint as a waft from yearsLong past; they touch in heaven the springs of tears.In great drops, slow and warm,Breaks all at once the spirit of the storm.
What now remains, what now remains but night?Night grieving, while the moon is in her grave!
Behold! the rain is over: on the waveA new, a flashing light!Lo, she arises calm,The pale, the patient moon, and pours like balmThrough the wet wood’s wrecked aisleHer own unutterably tender smile!
There is no calm like that when storm is done;There is no pleasure keen as pain’s release;There is no joy that lies so deep as peace,No peace so deep as that by struggle won.
Naught now remains, naught now remains but night--Night peaceful, with the moon on field and wave!
Words in this poem
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- fading n.
- An Irish dance; also, the burden of a song.
- ivied a.
- Overgrown with ivy. [From Ivy.]
- scarce a.
- Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
- waft v. t.
- To give notice to by waving something; to wave the hand to; to beckon. [Prob. originally imp. & p. p. of wave, v. t. See Wave to waver.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Nocturne of Rubinstein is in the public domain. This text is taken from A chant of love for England, and other poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #71425; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Helen Gray Cone, A Nocturne of Rubinstein, in A Chant of Love for England, and Other Poems (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #71425, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/cone-chant-for-england/a-nocturne-of-rubinstein.html, id L22069.
Form and metre
A Nocturne of Rubinstein is 56 lines in 12 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 50% of the lines: heroic couplets. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
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 AB nightA · graveB
- 2 ABCCDDEEFG lightA · waveB · wayC · layC · streamD · gleamD · shoreE · moreE · brightF · waveG
- 3 FG nightF · graveG
- 4 HHIIJJKL landH · understandH · comeI · dumbI · foundJ · groundJ · lightK · waveL
- 5 KL nightK · graveL
- 6 --MMNNOOPQ outswells · rebels · hairM · despairM · chafeN · safeN · nestO · breastO · flightP · waveQ
- 7 PQ nightP · graveQ
- 8 RR--SS hushR · rushR · years · tears · warmS · stormS
- 9 TU nightT · graveU
- 10 UTVVWW waveU · lightT · calmV · balmV · aisleW · smileW
- 11 XYYX doneX · releaseY · peaceY · wonX
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 |
|---|---|---|
| What now remains, what now remains but night? | 10 | ··˘/··˘/·· |
| Night hopeless, since the moon is in her grave! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Late came a glorious light | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| In one wide flood on spire and field and wave. | 10 | ·········· |
| It found a flowing way | 6 | ···/˘· |
| To secret places where the dead leaves lay; | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| It won the half-hid stream | 6 | ······ |
| To shy remembrance of her morning gleam; | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| Then on the sky’s sharp shore | 6 | ······ |
| Rolled back, a fading tide, and was no more. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| No more on spire and ivied window bright! | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| No more on field and wave! | 6 | ······ |
| What now remains, what now remains but night? | 10 | ··˘/··˘/·· |
| Night hopeless, since the moon is in her grave! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Dumb waits the dim, broad land, | 6 | ······ |
| Like one who hears, yet cannot understand, | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Tidings of grief to come. | 6 | /˘···· |
| The woods and waters, with the winds, are dumb. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| But now a breeze has found | 6 | ······ |
| Sorrowful voice, and sobs along the ground: | 10 | /˘˘···˘/·· |
| “Oh, the lost light, the last, the best lost light! | 10 | ·········· |
| No more on field and wave!” | 6 | ······ |
| What now remains, what now remains but night? | 10 | ··˘/··˘/·· |
| Night hopeless, since the moon is in her grave! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Hark, how the wind outswells, | 6 | ······ |
| Tempting the wood’s dark heart till he rebels, | 10 | /˘······/˘ |
| And, shaking his black hair, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Lifts up a cry of passion and despair! | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| The groaning branches chafe | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| Till scarce the small, hushed singing-birds are safe, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Tossed rocking in the nest, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Like gentle memories in a stormy breast. | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| A shudder, as good angels passed in flight, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Thrills over field and wave. | 6 | ······ |
| What now remains, what now remains but night? | 10 | ··˘/··˘/·· |
| Night lawless, while the moon is in her grave! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| There falls a mighty hush: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And forth from far recesses fern-scents rush, | 10 | ····/˘˘··· |
| Faint as a waft from years | 6 | ······ |
| Long past; they touch in heaven the springs of tears. | 10 | ·····/···· |
| In great drops, slow and warm, | 6 | ······ |
| Breaks all at once the spirit of the storm. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| What now remains, what now remains but night? | 10 | ··˘/··˘/·· |
| Night grieving, while the moon is in her grave! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Behold! the rain is over: on the wave | 10 | ˘/········ |
| A new, a flashing light! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Lo, she arises calm, | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| The pale, the patient moon, and pours like balm | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Through the wet wood’s wrecked aisle | 6 | ······ |
| Her own unutterably tender smile! | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| There is no calm like that when storm is done; | 10 | ·········· |
| There is no pleasure keen as pain’s release; | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| There is no joy that lies so deep as peace, | 10 | ·········· |
| No peace so deep as that by struggle won. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Naught now remains, naught now remains but night-- | 10 | ··˘/··˘/·· |
| Night peaceful, with the moon on field and wave! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
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