To Louise
Oh, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes,And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens;But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze,And soar in a song to my Lady Louise.A sweet little maid, who is dearer, I ween,Than any fair duchess, or even a queen.When speaking of her I can't plod in my prose,For she 's the wee lassie who gave me a rose.
Since poets, from seeing a lady's lip curled,Have written fair verse that has sweetened the world;Why, then, should not I give the space of an hourTo making a song in return for a flower?I have found in my life--it has not been so long--There are too few of flowers--too little of song.So out of that blossom, this lay of mine grows,For the dear little lady who gave me the rose.
I thank God for innocence, dearer than Art,That lights on a by-way which leads to the heart,And led by an impulse no less than divine,Walks into the temple and sits at the shrine.I would rather pluck daisies that grow in the wild,Or take one simple rose from the hand of a child,Then to breathe the rich fragrance of flowers that bideIn the gardens of luxury, passion, and pride.
I know not, my wee one, how came you to knowWhich way to my heart was the right way to go;Unless in your purity, soul-clean and clear,God whispers his messages into your ear.You have now had my song, let me end with a prayerThat your life may be always sweet, happy, and fair;That your joys may be many, and absent your woes,O dear little lady who gave me the rose!
Words in this poem
- ween v. i.
- To think; to imagine; to fancy. [OE. wenen, AS. w, fr. w hope, expectation, opinion; akin to D. waan, OFries. w, OS. & OHG. wan, G. wahn delusion, Icel. van hope, expectation, Goth. w, and D. w]
- duchess n.
- The wife or widow of a duke; also, a lady who has the sovereignty of a duchy in her own right. [F. duchesse, fr. duc duke.]
- plod v. i.
- To travel slowly but steadily; to trudge. [Gf. Gael. plod a clod, a pool; also, to strike or pelt with a clod or clods.]
- lassie n.
- A young girl; a lass.
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
- bide v. i.
- To dwell; to inhabit; to abide; to stay. [OE. biden, AS. bidan; akin to OHG. bitan, Goth. beidan, Icel. bi; perh. orig., to wait with trust, and akin to bid. See Bid, v. t., and cf. Abide.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To Louise 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, To Louise, in The Complete Poems (1893–1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18338, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/dunbar-poems/to-louise.html, id L00515.
Form and metre
To Louise is 32 lines in 4 stanzas of 8 lines each. Every stanza rhymes AABBCCDD. The metre is anapaestic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 86% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 11.1 syllables. 12% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in anapaestic 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 AABBCCDD irenesA · queensA · breezeB · louiseB · weenC · queenC · proseD · roseD
- 2 AABBCCDD curledA · worldA · hourB · flowerB · longC · songC · growsD · roseD
- 3 AABBCCDD artA · heartA · divineB · shrineB · wildC · childC · bideD · prideD
- 4 AABBCCDD knowA · goA · clearB · earB · prayerC · fairC · woesD · roseD
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 anapaestic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Oh, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes, | 12 | ··/˘····/˘˘/ |
| And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens; | 11 | ········/˘· |
| But I throw my poetical wings to the breeze, | 11 | ··········· |
| And soar in a song to my Lady Louise. | 11 | ·······/˘˘/ |
| A sweet little maid, who is dearer, I ween, | 11 | ··/˘···/˘·· |
| Than any fair duchess, or even a queen. | 11 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘·· |
| When speaking of her I can't plod in my prose, | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| For she 's the wee lassie who gave me a rose. | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| Since poets, from seeing a lady's lip curled, | 11 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘·· |
| Have written fair verse that has sweetened the world; | 11 | ·/˘····/˘·· |
| Why, then, should not I give the space of an hour | 12 | ··········/˘ |
| To making a song in return for a flower? | 12 | ·/˘···˘/··/˘ |
| I have found in my life--it has not been so long-- | 12 | ············ |
| There are too few of flowers--too little of song. | 11 | ·····/·/˘·· |
| So out of that blossom, this lay of mine grows, | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| For the dear little lady who gave me the rose. | 12 | ···/˘/˘····· |
| I thank God for innocence, dearer than Art, | 11 | ····/˘˘/˘·· |
| That lights on a by-way which leads to the heart, | 11 | ··········· |
| And led by an impulse no less than divine, | 11 | ····/˘···˘/ |
| Walks into the temple and sits at the shrine. | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| I would rather pluck daisies that grow in the wild, | 12 | ··/˘·/˘····· |
| Or take one simple rose from the hand of a child, | 12 | ···/˘······· |
| Then to breathe the rich fragrance of flowers that bide | 11 | ·····/˘·/·· |
| In the gardens of luxury, passion, and pride. | 11 | ··/˘·/˘/˘·· |
| I know not, my wee one, how came you to know | 11 | ··········· |
| Which way to my heart was the right way to go; | 11 | ··········· |
| Unless in your purity, soul-clean and clear, | 11 | ····/˘˘···· |
| God whispers his messages into your ear. | 11 | ·/˘·/˘˘···· |
| You have now had my song, let me end with a prayer | 12 | ············ |
| That your life may be always sweet, happy, and fair; | 12 | ·····/··/˘·· |
| That your joys may be many, and absent your woes, | 11 | ·····/·/˘·· |
| O dear little lady who gave me the rose! | 11 | ··/˘/˘····· |
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.