To Lucy, Countesse of Bedford, with M. Donnes Satyres
Lucy, you brightnesse of our Spheare, who areLife of the Muses day, their morning Starre!If works (not th'Authors) their own grace should lookWhose poems would not wish to be your book?But these, desir'd by you, the makers endsCrown with their own. Rare Poems ask rare friends.Yet, Satyres, since the most of mankind beeTheir unavoided subject, fewest see:For none ere took that pleasure in sins sense,But, when they heard it tax'd, took more offence.They, then, that living where the matter is bred,Dare for these Poems, yet, both ask, and read,And like them too; must needfully, though few,Be of the best: and 'mongst those best are you;Lucy, you brightnefle of our Spheare, who areThe Muses evening, as their morning-Starre.
Words in this poem
- starre n.
- One of the innumerable luminous bodies seen in the heavens; any heavenly body other than the sun, moon, comets, and nebulæ. [OE. sterre, AS. steorra; akin to OFries. stera, OS. sterro, D. ster, OHG. sterno, sterro, G. stern, Icel. stjarna, Sw. stjerna, Dan. stierne, Goth. staírno, Arm]
- unavoided a.
- Not avoided or shunned.
- offence n.
- The act of offending in any sense; esp., a crime or a sin, an affront or an injury. [F., fr. L. offensa. See Offend.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To Lucy, Countesse of Bedford, with M. Donnes Satyres is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of John Donne, Volume 1 (of 2) Edited from the Old Editions and Numerous Manuscripts, Project Gutenberg ebook #48688; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Donne, To Lucy, Countesse of Bedford, with M. Donnes Satyres, in Poems (1633), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #48688, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/donne-poems/to-lucy-countesse-of-bedford-with-m-donnes-satyres.html, id L04877.
Form and metre
To Lucy, Countesse of Bedford, with M. Donnes Satyres is 16 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets: heroic couplets. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 84%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 31% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 AABBCCDDEEFFGGAA areA · starreA · lookB · bookB · endsC · friendsC · beeD · seeD · senseE · offenceE · bredF · readF · fewG · youG · areA · starreA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Lucy, you brightnesse of our Spheare, who are | 10 | /˘····/··· |
| Life of the Muses day, their morning Starre! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| If works (not th'Authors) their own grace should look | 10 | ·········· |
| Whose poems would not wish to be your book? | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| But these, desir'd by you, the makers ends | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| Crown with their own. Rare Poems ask rare friends. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Yet, Satyres, since the most of mankind bee | 10 | ·······//· |
| Their unavoided subject, fewest see: | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| For none ere took that pleasure in sins sense, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| But, when they heard it tax'd, took more offence. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| They, then, that living where the matter is bred, | 11 | ···/˘··/˘·· |
| Dare for these Poems, yet, both ask, and read, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And like them too; must needfully, though few, | 10 | ·········· |
| Be of the best: and 'mongst those best are you; | 10 | ·········· |
| Lucy, you brightnefle of our Spheare, who are | 11 | /˘·····/··· |
| The Muses evening, as their morning-Starre. | 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.