A New-England Lady
SHE talks of “gentry” still, and “birth,”And holds the good old-fashioned creedOf widely differing ranks and station,And gentle blood, whose obligationIs courteous word and friendly deed.
She knows her own ancestral line,And numbers all its links of honor;But in her theory of right livingGood birth involves good will, good giving,—A daily duty laid upon her.
Her hands are versed in household arts:She kneads and stirs, compounds and spices;Her bread is famous in the region;Her cakes and puddings form a legionOf sure successes, swift surprises.
A lady in her kitchen apron;Always a lady, though she labors;She has a “faculty” prompt and certain,Which makes each flower-bed, gown, and curtainA standing wonder to her neighbors.
Her days seem measured by some planetMore liberal than our common sun is;For she finds time when others miss itThe poor to cheer, the sick to visit,And carry brightness in where none is.
Behold her as, her day’s work over,Her house from attic to door-scraperIn order, all her tasks completed,She sits down, calm, composed, unheated,To read her Emerson or her paper.
She hears the new æsthetic Gospel,And unconvinced although surprised is;Her family knows what is proper.She smiles, and does not care a copper,Although her carpet stigmatized is.
She does not quite accept tradition;She has her private theory ready;Her shrewd, quaint insight baffles leading;And straight through dogma’s special pleadingShe holds her own, composed and steady.
Kindness her law; her king is duty.You cannot bend her though you break her;As tough as yew and as elasticHer fibre; unconvinced, unplastic,—She clasps conviction like a Quaker.
Long live her type, to be our anchorWhen times go wrong and true men rally,Till aged Chocorua fails and bleachesBeside the shining Saco reaches,Monadnock by the Jaffrey valley.
Words in this poem
- gentry n.
- Birth; condition; rank by birth. [OE. genterie, gentrie, noble birth, nobility, cf. gentrise, and OF. gentelise, genterise, E. gentilesse, also OE. genteleri high-mindedness. See Gent, a., Gentl]
- shrewd a.
- Inclining to shrew; disposing to curse or scold; hence, vicious; malicious; evil; wicked; mischievous; vexatious; rough; unfair; shrewish. [Originally the p. p. of shrew, v.t.]
- quaint a.
- Prudent; wise; hence, crafty; artful; wily. [OE. queint, queynte, coint, prudent, wise, cunning, pretty, odd, OF. cointe cultivated, amiable, agreeable, neat, fr. L. cognitus known, p. p. of cognoscere to ]
- insight n.
- A sight or view of the interior of anything; a deep inspection or view; introspection; -- frequently used with into.
- fibre n.
- One of the delicate, threadlike portions of which the tissues of plants and animals are in part constituted; as, the fiber of flax or of muscle. [F. fibre, L. fibra.]
- quaker n.
- One who quakes.
- rally v. t.
- To collect, and reduce to order, as troops dispersed or thrown into confusion; to gather again; to reunite. [OF. ralier, F. rallier, fr. L. pref. re- + ad + ligare to bind. See Ra-, and 1st Ally.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A New-England Lady is in the public domain. This text is taken from A Few More Verses, Project Gutenberg ebook #49518; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Susan Coolidge, A New-England Lady, in A Few More Verses (1889), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #49518, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/coolidge-few-more-verses/a-new-england-lady.html, id L23479.
Form and metre
A New-England Lady is 50 lines in 10 stanzas of 5 lines each. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%).
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 -ABBA birth · creedA · stationB · obligationB · deedA
- 2 --AA- line · honor · livingA · givingA · her
- 3 --AA- arts · spices · regionA · legionA · surprises
- 4 -ABBA apron · laborsA · certainB · curtainB · neighborsA
- 5 ABAAB planetA · isB · itA · visitA · isB
- 6 -ABBA over · scraperA · completedB · unheatedB · paperA
- 7 -ABBA gospel · isA · properB · copperB · isA
- 8 -ABBA tradition · readyA · leadingB · pleadingB · steadyA
- 9 --AA- duty · her · elasticA · unplasticA · quaker
- 10 -ABBA anchor · rallyA · bleachesB · reachesB · valleyA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| SHE talks of “gentry” still, and “birth,” | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And holds the good old-fashioned creed | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Of widely differing ranks and station, | 9 | ·/˘/˘··/˘ |
| And gentle blood, whose obligation | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| Is courteous word and friendly deed. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| She knows her own ancestral line, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| And numbers all its links of honor; | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| But in her theory of right living | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Good birth involves good will, good giving,— | 9 | ··˘/···/˘ |
| A daily duty laid upon her. | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Her hands are versed in household arts: | 8 | ·····/·· |
| She kneads and stirs, compounds and spices; | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| Her bread is famous in the region; | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Her cakes and puddings form a legion | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Of sure successes, swift surprises. | 9 | ··˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| A lady in her kitchen apron; | 9 | ·/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Always a lady, though she labors; | 9 | /··/˘··/˘ |
| She has a “faculty” prompt and certain, | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Which makes each flower-bed, gown, and curtain | 9 | ···/···/˘ |
| A standing wonder to her neighbors. | 9 | ·/˘/˘··/˘ |
| Her days seem measured by some planet | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| More liberal than our common sun is; | 9 | ·/˘·//˘·· |
| For she finds time when others miss it | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| The poor to cheer, the sick to visit, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And carry brightness in where none is. | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Behold her as, her day’s work over, | 8 | ˘/······ |
| Her house from attic to door-scraper | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| In order, all her tasks completed, | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| She sits down, calm, composed, unheated, | 9 | ····˘/··· |
| To read her Emerson or her paper. | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| She hears the new æsthetic Gospel, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| And unconvinced although surprised is; | 9 | ··˘/··˘/· |
| Her family knows what is proper. | 9 | ·/˘˘···/˘ |
| She smiles, and does not care a copper, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Although her carpet stigmatized is. | 9 | ···/˘/˘·· |
| She does not quite accept tradition; | 9 | ····˘/˘/˘ |
| She has her private theory ready; | 9 | ···/˘/˘/˘ |
| Her shrewd, quaint insight baffles leading; | 9 | ···/·/˘/˘ |
| And straight through dogma’s special pleading | 9 | ···/˘/˘/˘ |
| She holds her own, composed and steady. | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| Kindness her law; her king is duty. | 9 | /˘·····/˘ |
| You cannot bend her though you break her; | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| As tough as yew and as elastic | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Her fibre; unconvinced, unplastic,— | 8 | ·/·˘/··· |
| She clasps conviction like a Quaker. | 9 | ··˘/˘··/˘ |
| Long live her type, to be our anchor | 9 | ······//˘ |
| When times go wrong and true men rally, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Till aged Chocorua fails and bleaches | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Beside the shining Saco reaches, | 9 | ˘/·/˘/˘/˘ |
| Monadnock by the Jaffrey valley. | 9 | ·/˘··/˘/˘ |
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.