The Last Chrysanthemum
WHY should this flower delay so longTo show its tremulous plumes?Now is the time of plaintive robin-song,When flowers are in their tombs.
Through the slow summer, when the sunCalled to each frond and whorlThat all he could for flowers was being done,Why did it not uncurl?
It must have felt that fervid callAlthough it took no heed,Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall,And saps all retrocede.
Too late its beauty, lonely thing,The season’s shine is spent,Nothing remains for it but shiveringIn tempests turbulent.
Had it a reason for delay,Dreaming in witlessnessThat for a bloom so delicately gayWinter would stay its stress?
—I talk as if the thing were bornWith sense to work its mind;Yet it is but one mask of many wornBy the Great Face behind.
Words in this poem
- uncurl v. t.
- To loose from curls, or ringlets; to straighten out, as anything curled or curly. [1st pref. un- + curl.]
- fervid a.
- Very hot; burning; boiling. [L. fervidus, fr. fervere. See Fervent.]
- retrocede v. t.
- To cede or grant back; as, to retrocede a territory to a former proprietor. [Pref. retro- + cede: cf. F. rétrocéder.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Last Chrysanthemum is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of the Past and the Present, Project Gutenberg ebook #3168; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Hardy, The Last Chrysanthemum, in Poems of the Past and the Present (1901), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #3168, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hardy-past-and-present/the-last-chrysanthemum.html, id L16916.
Form and metre
The Last Chrysanthemum is 24 lines in 6 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.4 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 38% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic 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 longA · plumesB · songA · tombsB
- 2 ABAB sunA · whorlB · doneA · uncurlB
- 3 ABAB callA · heedB · fallA · retrocedeB
- 4 ABAB thingA · spentB · shiveringA · turbulentB
- 5 ABAB delayA · witlessnessB · gayA · stressB
- 6 ABAB bornA · mindB · wornA · behindB
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 trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| WHY should this flower delay so long | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| To show its tremulous plumes? | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| Now is the time of plaintive robin-song, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| When flowers are in their tombs. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Through the slow summer, when the sun | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Called to each frond and whorl | 7 | ·˘····· |
| That all he could for flowers was being done, | 9 | ·····/·/· |
| Why did it not uncurl? | 6 | ····˘/ |
| It must have felt that fervid call | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Although it took no heed, | 6 | ······ |
| Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall, | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| And saps all retrocede. | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| Too late its beauty, lonely thing, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| The season’s shine is spent, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Nothing remains for it but shivering | 9 | /˘˘/···/˘ |
| In tempests turbulent. | 6 | ·/˘/˘˘ |
| Had it a reason for delay, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Dreaming in witlessness | 6 | /˘···· |
| That for a bloom so delicately gay | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Winter would stay its stress? | 6 | /˘···· |
| —I talk as if the thing were born | 8 | ········ |
| With sense to work its mind; | 6 | ······ |
| Yet it is but one mask of many worn | 9 | ·······/· |
| By the Great Face behind. | 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.