A Madrigal
Dream days of fond delight and hoursAs rosy-hued as dawn, are mine.Love's drowsy wine,Brewed from the heart of Passion flowers,Flows softly o'er my lipsAnd save thee, all the world is in eclipse.
There were no light if thou wert not;The sun would be too sad to shine,And all the lineOf hours from dawn would be a blot;And Night would haunt the skies,An unlaid ghost with staring dark-ringed eyes.
Oh, love, if thou wert not my love,And I perchance not thine--what then?Could gift of menOr favor of the God above,Plant aught in this bare heartOr teach this tongue the singer's soulful art?
Ah, no! 'Tis love, and love aloneThat spurs my soul so surely on;Turns night to dawn,And thorns to roses fairest blown;And winter drear to spring--Oh, were it not for love I could not sing!
Words in this poem
- hued a.
- Having color; -- usually in composition; as, bright-hued; many- hued.
- unlaid a.
- Not laid or placed; not fixed. Hooker.
- ghost n.
- The spirit; the soul of man. [OE. gast, gost, soul, spirit, AS. gast breath, spirit, soul; akin to OS. g spirit, soul, D. geest, G. geist, and prob. to E. gaze, ghastly.]
- aught n.
- Property; possession. [AS. , fr. agan to own, p. p. ahte.]
- drear n.
- Sadness; dismalness.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Madrigal is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar, Project Gutenberg ebook #18338; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Paul Laurence Dunbar, A Madrigal, in The Complete Poems (1893–1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18338, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/dunbar-poems/a-madrigal.html, id L00899.
Form and metre
A Madrigal is 24 lines in 4 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBACC. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.4 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 25% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 ABBACC hoursA · mineB · wineB · flowersA · lipsC · eclipseC
- 2 ABBACC notA · shineB · lineB · blotA · skiesC · eyesC
- 3 ABBACC loveA · thenB · menB · aboveA · heartC · artC
- 4 ABBACC aloneA · onB · dawnB · blownA · springC · singC
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Dream days of fond delight and hours | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| As rosy-hued as dawn, are mine. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Love's drowsy wine, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Brewed from the heart of Passion flowers, | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Flows softly o'er my lips | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And save thee, all the world is in eclipse. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| There were no light if thou wert not; | 8 | ········ |
| The sun would be too sad to shine, | 8 | ········ |
| And all the line | 4 | ···· |
| Of hours from dawn would be a blot; | 8 | ·/······ |
| And Night would haunt the skies, | 6 | ······ |
| An unlaid ghost with staring dark-ringed eyes. | 10 | ·˘/··/˘··· |
| Oh, love, if thou wert not my love, | 8 | ········ |
| And I perchance not thine--what then? | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| Could gift of men | 4 | ···· |
| Or favor of the God above, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Plant aught in this bare heart | 6 | ······ |
| Or teach this tongue the singer's soulful art? | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Ah, no! 'Tis love, and love alone | 8 | ······˘/ |
| That spurs my soul so surely on; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Turns night to dawn, | 4 | ···· |
| And thorns to roses fairest blown; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And winter drear to spring-- | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Oh, were it not for love I could not sing! | 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.