A Rose
Too-perfect Rose, thy heavy breath has powerTo wake a dim, an unexplained regret:Art body to the soul of some deep hourThat all my seasons have not yielded yet?
But if it be so--Hour, too-perfect Hour,Ah, blow not full, though all the yearning daysShould tremble bud-like, since the wind must showerThine unreturning grace along the ways!
About this text
A Rose 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 Rose, 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-rose.html, id L22081.
Form and metre
A Rose is 8 lines in 2 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%).
See 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 ABAB powerA · regretB · hourA · yetB
- 2 ABAB hourA · daysB · showerA · waysB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Too-perfect Rose, thy heavy breath has power | 11 | ·/···/˘··/˘ |
| To wake a dim, an unexplained regret: | 10 | ······˘/˘/ |
| Art body to the soul of some deep hour | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| That all my seasons have not yielded yet? | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| But if it be so--Hour, too-perfect Hour, | 11 | ·····/·/·/˘ |
| Ah, blow not full, though all the yearning days | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Should tremble bud-like, since the wind must shower | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Thine unreturning grace along the ways! | 10 | ······˘/·· |
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.