Wessex Heights (1896)
THERE are some heights in Wessex, shaped as if by a kindly handFor thinking, dreaming, dying on, and at crises when I stand,Say, on Ingpen Beacon eastward, or on Wylls-Neck westwardly,I seem where I was before my birth, and after death may be.
In the lowlands I have no comrade, not even the lone man’s friend—Her who suffereth long and is kind; accepts what he is too weak tomend:Down there they are dubious and askance; there nobody thinks as I,But mind-chains do not clank where one’s next neighbour is the sky.
In the towns I am tracked by phantoms having weird detective ways—Shadows of beings who fellowed with myself of earlier days:They hang about at places, and they say harsh heavy things—Men with a frigid sneer, and women with tart disparagings.
Down there I seem to be false to myself, my simple self that was,And is not now, and I see him watching, wondering what crass causeCan have merged him into such a strange continuator as this,Who yet has something in common with himself, my chrysalis.
I cannot go to the great grey Plain; there’s a figure against themoon,Nobody sees it but I, and it makes my breast beat out of tune;I cannot go to the tall-spired town, being barred by the forms nowpassedFor everybody but me, in whose long vision they stand there fast.
There’s a ghost at Yell’ham Bottom chiding loud at the fall of thenight,There’s a ghost in Froom-side Vale, thin lipped and vague, in a shroudof white,There is one in the railway-train whenever I do not want it near,I see its profile against the pane, saying what I would not hear.
As for one rare fair woman, I am now but a thought of hers,I enter her mind and another thought succeeds me that she prefers;Yet my love for her in its fulness she herself even did not know;Well, time cures hearts of tenderness, and now I can let her go.
So I am found on Ingpen Beacon, or on Wylls-Neck to the west,Or else on homely Bulbarrow, or little Pilsdon Crest,Where men have never cared to haunt, nor women have walked with me,And ghosts then keep their distance; and I know some liberty.
Words in this poem
- westwardly adv.
- In a westward direction.
- lone n.
- A lane. See Loanin.
- dubious a.
- Doubtful or not settled in opinion; being in doubt; wavering or fluctuating; undetermined. [L. dubius, dubiosus, fr. duo two. See Two, and cf. Doubt.]
- askance adv.
- Sideways; obliquely; with a side glance; with disdain, envy, or suspicion. [Cf. D. schuin, schuins, sideways, schuiven to shove, schuinte slope. Cf. Asquint.]
- nobody n.
- No person; no one; not anybody. [No, a. + body.]
- clank n.
- A sharp, brief, ringing sound, made by a collision of metallic or other sonorous bodies; -- usually expressing a duller or less resounding sound than clang, and a deeper and stronger sound than clink. [Akin to clink, and of imitative origin; cf. G. klang sound, D. klank. Cf. Clang.]
- neighbour v. i.
- To dwell in the vicinity; to be a neighbor, or in the neighborhood; to be near.
- detective a.
- Fitted for, or skilled in, detecting; employed in detecting crime or criminals; as, a detective officer.
- crass a.
- Cross; thick; dense; coarse; not elaborated or refined. [L. crassus thick, fat, gross, prob. orig., closely woven See Crease animal fat, and cf. Crate, Hurdle.]
- continuator n.
- One who, or that which, continues; esp., one who continues a series or a work; a continuer. Sir T. Browne. [Cf. F. continuateur.]
- 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.]
- vale n.
- A tract of low ground, or of land between hills; a valley. [OE. val, F. val, L. vallis; perhaps akin to Gr. Avalanche, Vail to lower, Valley.]
- pane n.
- The narrow edge of a hammer head. See Peen. [F. panne.]
- homely a.
- Belonging to, or having the characteristics of, home; domestic; familiar; intimate. [From Home, n.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Wessex Heights (1896) 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, Wessex Heights (1896), in Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #2863, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hardy-satires/wessex-heights-1896.html, id L24011.
Form and metre
Wessex Heights (1896) is 37 lines in 8 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 59% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, 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 AA-- handA · standA · westwardly · be
- 2 A-ABB friendA · to · mendA · iB · skyB
- 3 AABB waysA · daysA · thingsB · disparagingsB
- 4 AABB wasA · causeA · thisB · chrysalisB
- 5 -AA-BB the · moonA · tuneA · now · passedB · fastB
- 6 -A-ABB the · nightA · shroud · whiteA · nearB · hearB
- 7 AABB hersA · prefersA · knowB · goB
- 8 AA-- westA · crestA · me · liberty
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 |
|---|---|---|
| THERE are some heights in Wessex, shaped as if by a kindly hand | 15 | ·····/˘·····/˘· |
| For thinking, dreaming, dying on, and at crises when I stand, | 15 | ·/˘/˘/˘···/˘··· |
| Say, on Ingpen Beacon eastward, or on Wylls-Neck westwardly, | 15 | ····/˘/˘····/˘˘ |
| I seem where I was before my birth, and after death may be. | 15 | ··············· |
| In the lowlands I have no comrade, not even the lone man’s friend— | 15 | ··/····/··/···· |
| Her who suffereth long and is kind; accepts what he is too weak to | 16 | ··/˘····˘/······ |
| mend: | 1 | · |
| Down there they are dubious and askance; there nobody thinks as I, | 16 | ····/˘·˘/·/····· |
| But mind-chains do not clank where one’s next neighbour is the sky. | 14 | ·········/˘··· |
| In the towns I am tracked by phantoms having weird detective ways— | 16 | ·······/˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| Shadows of beings who fellowed with myself of earlier days: | 15 | /··/˘·/˘··/·/˘· |
| They hang about at places, and they say harsh heavy things— | 14 | ·····/˘····/˘· |
| Men with a frigid sneer, and women with tart disparagings. | 14 | ···/˘··/˘··˘/˘ |
| Down there I seem to be false to myself, my simple self that was, | 16 | ·········/·/˘··· |
| And is not now, and I see him watching, wondering what crass cause | 15 | ········/˘/˘··· |
| Can have merged him into such a strange continuator as this, | 15 | ·········˘/˘˘·· |
| Who yet has something in common with himself, my chrysalis. | 14 | ···/˘·/˘·˘/·/˘ |
| I cannot go to the great grey Plain; there’s a figure against the | 16 | ·/˘········/˘··· |
| moon, | 1 | · |
| Nobody sees it but I, and it makes my breast beat out of tune; | 16 | /··············· |
| I cannot go to the tall-spired town, being barred by the forms now | 15 | ·/˘······/····· |
| passed | 1 | · |
| For everybody but me, in whose long vision they stand there fast. | 16 | ·/˘·˘·····/˘···· |
| There’s a ghost at Yell’ham Bottom chiding loud at the fall of the | 16 | ······/˘/˘······ |
| night, | 1 | · |
| There’s a ghost in Froom-side Vale, thin lipped and vague, in a shroud | 14 | ·············· |
| of white, | 2 | ·· |
| There is one in the railway-train whenever I do not want it near, | 17 | ·····/··˘/˘······ |
| I see its profile against the pane, saying what I would not hear. | 16 | ···/·····/˘····· |
| As for one rare fair woman, I am now but a thought of hers, | 15 | ·····/˘········ |
| I enter her mind and another thought succeeds me that she prefers; | 17 | ·/˘···˘/˘·˘/···˘/ |
| Yet my love for her in its fulness she herself even did not know; | 16 | ·······/˘·˘//··· |
| Well, time cures hearts of tenderness, and now I can let her go. | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| So I am found on Ingpen Beacon, or on Wylls-Neck to the west, | 16 | ·······/˘······· |
| Or else on homely Bulbarrow, or little Pilsdon Crest, | 14 | ···/˘····/˘··· |
| Where men have never cared to haunt, nor women have walked with me, | 14 | ···/····/˘···· |
| And ghosts then keep their distance; and I know some liberty. | 13 | ·····/˘····/˘ |
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