The Wraith
Ah me, it is cold and chillAnd the fire sobs low in the grate,While the wind rides by on the hill,And the logs crack sharp with hate.
And she, she is cold and sadAs ever the sinful are,But deep in my heart I am gladFor my wound and the coming scar.
Oh, ever the wind rides byAnd ever the raindrops grieve;But a voice like a woman's sighSays, "Do you believe, believe?"
Ah, you were warm and sweet,Sweet as the May days be;Down did I fall at your feet,Why did you hearken to me?
Oh, the logs they crack and whine,And the water drops from the eaves;But it is not rain but brineWhere my dead darling grieves.
And a wraith sits by my side,A spectre grim and dark;Are you gazing here open-eyedOut to the lifeless dark?
But ever the wind rides on,And we sit close within;Out of the face of the dawn,I and my darling,--sin.
Words in this poem
- wraith n.
- An apparition of a person in his exact likeness, seen before death, or a little after; hence, an apparition; a specter; a vision; an unreal image. [Scot. wraith, warth; probably originally, a guardian angel, from Icel. vörthr a warden, guardian, akin to E. ward. See Ward a guard.]
- spectre n.
- Something preternaturally visible; an apparition; a ghost; a phantom. [F. spectre, fr. L. spectrum an appearance, image, specter, fr. specere to look. See Spy, and cf. Spectrum.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Wraith 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, The Wraith, in The Complete Poems (1893–1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18338, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/dunbar-poems/the-wraith.html, id L00734.
Form and metre
The Wraith is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 79%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.0 syllables. 25% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in common measure.
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 chillA · grateB · hillA · hateB
- 2 ABAB sadA · areB · gladA · scarB
- 3 ABAB byA · grieveB · sighA · believeB
- 4 ABAB sweetA · beB · feetA · meB
- 5 ABAB whineA · eavesB · brineA · grievesB
- 6 ABAB sideA · darkB · eyedA · darkB
- 7 ABAB onA · withinB · dawnA · sinB
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 common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Ah me, it is cold and chill | 7 | ······· |
| And the fire sobs low in the grate, | 8 | ··/····· |
| While the wind rides by on the hill, | 8 | ········ |
| And the logs crack sharp with hate. | 7 | ······· |
| And she, she is cold and sad | 7 | ······· |
| As ever the sinful are, | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| But deep in my heart I am glad | 8 | ········ |
| For my wound and the coming scar. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Oh, ever the wind rides by | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| And ever the raindrops grieve; | 7 | ·/˘·/·· |
| But a voice like a woman's sigh | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Says, "Do you believe, believe?" | 7 | ···˘/˘/ |
| Ah, you were warm and sweet, | 6 | ······ |
| Sweet as the May days be; | 6 | ······ |
| Down did I fall at your feet, | 7 | ······· |
| Why did you hearken to me? | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| Oh, the logs they crack and whine, | 7 | ······· |
| And the water drops from the eaves; | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| But it is not rain but brine | 7 | ······· |
| Where my dead darling grieves. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And a wraith sits by my side, | 7 | ······· |
| A spectre grim and dark; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Are you gazing here open-eyed | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| Out to the lifeless dark? | 6 | ···/˘· |
| But ever the wind rides on, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| And we sit close within; | 6 | ······ |
| Out of the face of the dawn, | 7 | ······· |
| I and my darling,--sin. | 6 | ···/˘· |
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.