“I Rose Up as My Custom Is”
I ROSE up as my custom isOn the eve of All-Souls’ day,And left my grave for an hour or soTo call on those I used to knowBefore I passed away.
I visited my former LoveAs she lay by her husband’s side;I asked her if life pleased her, nowShe was rid of a poet wrung in brow,And crazed with the ills he eyed;
Who used to drag her here and thereWherever his fancies led,And point out pale phantasmal things,And talk of vain vague purposingsThat she discredited.
She was quite civil, and replied,“Old comrade, is that you?Well, on the whole, I like my life.—I know I swore I’d be no wife,But what was I to do?
“You see, of all men for my sexA poet is the worst;Women are practical, and theyCrave the wherewith to pay their way,And slake their social thirst.
“You were a poet—quite the idealThat we all love awhile:But look at this man snoring here—He’s no romantic chanticleer,Yet keeps me in good style.
“He makes no quest into my thoughts,But a poet wants to knowWhat one has felt from earliest days,Why one thought not in other ways,And one’s Loves of long ago.”
Her words benumbed my fond frail ghost;The nightmares neighed from their stallsThe vampires screeched, the harpies flew,And under the dim dawn I withdrewTo Death’s inviolate halls.
Words in this poem
- wherever adv.
- At or in whatever place; wheresoever.
- phantasmal a.
- Pertaining to, of the nature of, or resembling, a phantasm; spectral; illusive.
- crave v. t.
- To ask with earnestness or importunity; to ask with submission or humility; to beg; to entreat; to beseech; to implore. [AS. crafian; akin to Icel. krefia, Sw. kr, Dan. kr.]
- wherewith adv.
- With which; -- used relatively.
- awhile adv.
- For a while; for some time; for a short time. [Adj. a + while time, interval.]
- chanticleer n.
- A cock, so called from the clearness or loundness of his voice in crowing. [F. Chanteclair, name of the cock in the Roman du Renart (Reynard the Fox); chanter to chant + clair clear. See Chant, and Clear.]
- 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.]
- inviolate a.
- Not violated; uninjured; unhurt; unbroken. [L. inviolatus. See In- not, and Violate.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
“I Rose Up as My Custom Is” is in the public domain. This text is taken from Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries, with Miscellaneous Pieces, Project Gutenberg ebook #2863; 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, “I Rose Up as My Custom Is”, in Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #2863, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hardy-satires/i-rose-up-as-my-custom-is.html, id L24074.
Form and metre
“I Rose Up as My Custom Is” is 40 lines in 8 stanzas of 5 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 84%).
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 -ABBA is · dayA · soB · knowB · awayA
- 2 -ABBA love · sideA · nowB · browB · eyedA
- 3 -ABBA there · ledA · thingsB · purposingsB · discreditedA
- 4 -ABBA replied · youA · lifeB · wifeB · doA
- 5 -ABBA sex · worstA · theyB · wayB · thirstA
- 6 -ABBA ideal · awhileA · hereB · chanticleerB · styleA
- 7 -ABBA thoughts · knowA · daysB · waysB · agoA
- 8 -ABBA ghost · stallsA · flewB · withdrewB · hallsA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| I ROSE up as my custom is | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| On the eve of All-Souls’ day, | 7 | ······· |
| And left my grave for an hour or so | 9 | ······/·· |
| To call on those I used to know | 8 | ········ |
| Before I passed away. | 7 | ····˘˘/ |
| I visited my former Love | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘· |
| As she lay by her husband’s side; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I asked her if life pleased her, now | 8 | ········ |
| She was rid of a poet wrung in brow, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And crazed with the ills he eyed; | 8 | ··˘····· |
| Who used to drag her here and there | 8 | ········ |
| Wherever his fancies led, | 7 | ˘/˘·/˘· |
| And point out pale phantasmal things, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| And talk of vain vague purposings | 8 | ········ |
| That she discredited. | 6 | ··˘/˘˘ |
| She was quite civil, and replied, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| “Old comrade, is that you? | 6 | ·/···· |
| Well, on the whole, I like my life.— | 8 | ········ |
| I know I swore I’d be no wife, | 8 | ········ |
| But what was I to do? | 6 | ······ |
| “You see, of all men for my sex | 8 | ········ |
| A poet is the worst; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Women are practical, and they | 8 | /˘·/˘˘·· |
| Crave the wherewith to pay their way, | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| And slake their social thirst. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| “You were a poet—quite the ideal | 9 | ···/˘··˘/ |
| That we all love awhile: | 6 | ····˘/ |
| But look at this man snoring here— | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| He’s no romantic chanticleer, | 8 | ··˘/˘/˘˘ |
| Yet keeps me in good style. | 6 | ······ |
| “He makes no quest into my thoughts, | 8 | ········ |
| But a poet wants to know | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| What one has felt from earliest days, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Why one thought not in other ways, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And one’s Loves of long ago.” | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Her words benumbed my fond frail ghost; | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| The nightmares neighed from their stalls | 8 | ·/··˘··· |
| The vampires screeched, the harpies flew, | 8 | ·/˘·˘··· |
| And under the dim dawn I withdrew | 9 | ·······˘/ |
| To Death’s inviolate halls. | 7 | ··˘/˘˘· |
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.