Beranger's "Ma Vocation"
Misery is my lot,Poverty and pain;Ill was I begot,Ill must I remain;Yet the wretched daysOne sweet comfort bring,When God whispering says,"Sing, O singer, sing!"
Chariots rumble by,Splashing me with mud;Insolence see IFawn to royal blood;Solace have I thenFrom each galling stingIn that voice again,--"Sing, O singer, sing!"
Cowardly at heart,I am forced to playA degraded partFor its paltry pay;Freedom is a prizeFor no starving thing;Yet that small voice cries,"Sing, O singer, sing!"
I was young, but now,When I'm old and gray,Love--I know not howOr why--hath sped away;Still, in winter daysAs in hours of spring,Still a whisper says,"Sing, O singer, sing!"
Ah, too well I knowSong's my only friend!Patiently I'll goSinging to the end;Comrades, to your wine!Let your glasses ring!Lo, that voice divineWhispers, "Sing, oh, sing!"
Words in this poem
- insolence n.
- The quality of being unusual or novel. [F. insolence, L. insolentia. See Insolent.]
- solace n.
- Comfort in grief; alleviation of grief or anxiety; also, that which relieves in distress; that which cheers or consoles; relief. [OF. solas, ssoulaz, L. solacium, solatium, fr. solari to comfort, console. Cf. Console, v. t.]
- galling a.
- Fitted to gall or chafe; vexing; harassing; irritating.
- patiently adv.
- In a patient manner.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Beranger's "Ma Vocation" is in the public domain. This text is taken from A Little Book of Western Verse, Project Gutenberg ebook #9606; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Eugene Field, Beranger's "Ma Vocation", in A Little Book of Western Verse (1889), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9606, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/field-western-verse/beranger-s-ma-vocation.html, id L24672.
Form and metre
Beranger's "Ma Vocation" is 40 lines in 5 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 3 of its 5 stanzas. The metre is trochaic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
See other poems in trochaic trimeter.
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-C-C lotA · painB · begotA · remainB · days · bringC · says · singC
- 2 ABABCDCD byA · mudB · iA · bloodB · thenC · stingD · againC · singD
- 3 ABABCDCD heartA · playB · partA · payB · prizeC · thingD · criesC · singD
- 4 ABAB-C-C nowA · grayB · howA · awayB · days · springC · says · singC
- 5 ABABCDCD knowA · friendB · goA · endB · wineC · ringD · divineC · singD
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 trochaic trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Misery is my lot, | 5 | /˘··· |
| Poverty and pain; | 5 | /˘˘·· |
| Ill was I begot, | 5 | ···˘/ |
| Ill must I remain; | 5 | ···˘/ |
| Yet the wretched days | 5 | ··/˘· |
| One sweet comfort bring, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| When God whispering says, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| "Sing, O singer, sing!" | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Chariots rumble by, | 5 | /˘/˘· |
| Splashing me with mud; | 5 | /˘··· |
| Insolence see I | 5 | /˘˘·· |
| Fawn to royal blood; | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Solace have I then | 5 | /˘··· |
| From each galling sting | 5 | ··/˘· |
| In that voice again,-- | 5 | ···˘/ |
| "Sing, O singer, sing!" | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Cowardly at heart, | 5 | /˘˘·· |
| I am forced to play | 5 | ····· |
| A degraded part | 5 | ·˘/˘· |
| For its paltry pay; | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Freedom is a prize | 5 | /˘··· |
| For no starving thing; | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Yet that small voice cries, | 5 | ····· |
| "Sing, O singer, sing!" | 5 | ··/˘· |
| I was young, but now, | 5 | ····· |
| When I'm old and gray, | 5 | ····· |
| Love--I know not how | 5 | ····· |
| Or why--hath sped away; | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Still, in winter days | 5 | ··/˘· |
| As in hours of spring, | 5 | ··/·· |
| Still a whisper says, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| "Sing, O singer, sing!" | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Ah, too well I know | 5 | ····· |
| Song's my only friend! | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Patiently I'll go | 5 | /˘˘·· |
| Singing to the end; | 5 | /˘··· |
| Comrades, to your wine! | 5 | /···· |
| Let your glasses ring! | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Lo, that voice divine | 5 | ···˘/ |
| Whispers, "Sing, oh, sing!" | 5 | /˘··· |
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.