Where the Picnic Was
WHERE we made the fire,In the summer time,Of branch and briarOn the hill to the seaI slowly climbThrough winter mire,And scan and traceThe forsaken placeQuite readily.
Now a cold wind blows,And the grass is gray,But the spot still showsAs a burnt circle—aye,And stick-ends, charred,Still strew the swardWhereon I stand,Last relic of the bandWho came that day!
Yes, I am hereJust as last year,And the sea breathes brineFrom its strange straight lineUp hither, the sameAs when we four came.—But two have wandered farFrom this grassy riseInto urban roarWhere no picnics are,And one—has shut her eyesFor evermore.
(With thoughts of Leslie Stephen)(June 1897)
ALOOF, as if a thing of mood and whim;Now that its spare and desolate figure gleamsUpon my nearing vision, less it seemsA looming Alp-height than a guise of himWho scaled its horn with ventured life and limb,Drawn on by vague imaginings, maybe,Of semblance to his personalityIn its quaint glooms, keen lights, and rugged trim.
At his last change, when Life’s dull coils unwind,Will he, in old love, hitherward escape,And the eternal essence of his mindEnter this silent adamantine shape,And his low voicing haunt its slipping snowsWhen dawn that calls the climber dyes them rose?
(Algernon Charles Swinburne, 1837–1909)
In this fair niche above the unslumbering sea,That sentrys up and down all night, all day,From cove to promontory, from ness to bay,The Fates have fitly bidden that he should be Pillowed eternally.
—It was as though a garland of red rosesHad fallen about the hood of some smug nunWhen irresponsibly dropped as from the sun,In fulth of numbers freaked with musical closes,Upon Victoria’s formal middle timeHis leaves of rhythm and rhyme.
O that far morning of a summer dayWhen, down a terraced street whose pavements layGlassing the sunshine into my bent eyes,I walked and read with a quick glad surpriseNew words, in classic guise,—
The passionate pages of his earlier years,Fraught with hot sighs, sad laughters, kisses, tears;Fresh-fluted notes, yet from a minstrel whoBlew them not naïvely, but as one who knewFull well why thus he blew.
I still can hear the brabble and the roarAt those thy tunes, O still one, now passed throughThat fitful fire of tongues then entered new!Their power is spent like spindrift on this shore;Thine swells yet more and more.
—His singing-mistress verily was no otherThan she the Lesbian, she the music-motherOf all the tribe that feel in melodies;Who leapt, love-anguished, from the Leucadian steepInto the rambling world-encircling deepWhich hides her where none sees.
And one can hold in thought that nightly hereHis phantom may draw down to the water’s brim,And hers come up to meet it, as a dimLone shine upon the heaving hydrosphere,And mariners wonder as they traverse near,Unknowing of her and him.
One dreams him sighing to her spectral form:“O teacher, where lies hid thy burning line;Where are those songs, O poetess divineWhose very arts are love incarnadine?”And her smile back: “Disciple true and warm,Sufficient now are thine.” . . .
So here, beneath the waking constellations,Where the waves peal their everlasting strains,And their dull subterrene reverberationsShake him when storms make mountains of their plains—Him once their peer in sad improvisations,And deft as wind to cleave their frothy manes—I leave him, while the daylight gleam declinesUpon the capes and chines.
Words in this poem 29
- briar n.
- A plant with a slender woody stem bearing stout prickles; especially, species of Rosa, Rubus, and Smilax. [OE. brere, brer, AS. brer, brær; cf. Ir. briar prickle, thorn, brier, pin, Gael. preas bush, brier, W. prys, prysg.]
- scan v. t.
- To mount by steps; to go through with step by step. [L. scandere, scansum, to climb, to scan, akin to Skr. skand to spring, leap: cf. F. scander. Cf. Ascend, Descend, Scale a ladder.]
- whereon adv.
- On which; -- used relatively; as, the earth whereon we live.
- urban a.
- Of or belonging to a city or town; as, an urban population. [L. urbanus belonging to the urbs, urbis, a city: cf. F. urbain. Cf. Urbane.]
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
- looming n.
- The indistinct and magnified appearance of objects seen in particular states of the atmosphere. See Mirage.
- scaled a.
- Covered with scales, or scalelike structures; -- said of a fish, a reptile, a moth, etc.
- maybe adv.
- Perhaps; possibly; peradventure. [For it may be.]
- quaint a.
- Prudent; wise; hence, crafty; artful; wily. [OE. queint, queynte, coint, prudent, wise, cunning, pretty, odd, OF. cointe cultivated, amiable, agreeable, neat, fr. L. cognitus known, p. p. of cognoscere to ]
- hitherward adv.
- Toward this place; hither. [AS. hiderweard.]
- climber v. i.
- To climb; to mount with effort; to clamber. Tusser. [From Climb; cf. Clamber.]
- cove v. t.
- To brood, cover, over, or sit over, as birds their eggs. [CF. F. couver, It. covare. See Covey.]
- pillowed a.
- Provided with a pillow or pillows; having the head resting on, or as on, a pillow.
- eternally adv.
- In an eternal manner.
- smug v. t.
- To make smug, or spruce.
- irresponsibly adv.
- So as not to be responsible.
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
- classic a.
- Of or relating to the first class or rank, especially in literature or art. [L. classicus relating to the classes of the Roman people, and especially to the frist class; hence, of the first rank, superior, from classis class: cf. F. clas]
- fraught n.
- A freight; a cargo. [OE.fraight, fraght; akin to Dan. fragt, Sw. frakt, D. vracht, G. fracht, cf. OHG. fr merit, reward; perh. from corresponding to E. for + The root of E. own. Cf.]
- brabble v. i.
- To clamor; to contest noisily. [D. brabbelen to talk confusedly. Blab, Babble.]
- fitful a.
- Full of fits; irregularly variable; impulsive and unstable. [From 7th Fit.]
- lesbian a.
- Of or pertaining to the island anciently called Lesbos, now Mitylene, in the Grecian Archipelago.
- nightly a.
- Of or pertaining to the night, or to every night; happening or done by night, or every night; as, nightly shades; he kept nightly vigils.
- lone n.
- A lane. See Loanin.
- hydrosphere n.
- The aqueous vapor of the entire atmosphere.
- incarnadine a.
- Flesh-colored; of a carnation or pale red color. [F. incarnadin, It. incarnatino; L. pref. in- in + caro, carnis, flesh. Cf. Carnation, Incarnate.]
- peal v. i.
- To appeal. Spencer.
- deft a.
- Apt; fit; dexterous; clever; handy; spruce; neat. [OE. daft, deft, becoming, mild, gentle, stupid (cf. OE. daffe, deffe, fool, coward), AS. dæft (in derivatives only) mild, gentle, fitting, seasonable; akin to d]
- daylight n.
- The light of day as opposed to the darkness of night; the light of the sun, as opposed to that of the moon or to artificial light.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Where the Picnic Was 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, Where the Picnic Was, in Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #2863, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hardy-satires/where-the-picnic-was.html, id L24014.
Form and metre
Where the Picnic Was is 98 lines in 16 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 84%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ABA-BACC- fireA · timeB · briarA · sea · climbB · mireA · traceC · placeC · readily
- 2 ABA---CCB blowsA · grayB · showsA · aye · charred · sward · standC · bandC · dayB
- 3 AABBCCDEFDEF hereA · yearA · brineB · lineB · sameC · cameC · farD · riseE · roarF · areD · eyesE · evermoreF
- 5 ABBAA--A whimA · gleamsB · seemsB · himA · limbA · maybe · personality · trimA
- 6 ABABCC unwindA · escapeB · mindA · shapeB · snowsC · roseC
- 8 -AA- sea · dayA · bayA · eternally
- 9 ABBACC rosesA · nunB · sunB · closesA · timeC · rhymeC
- 10 AABBB dayA · layA · eyesB · surpriseB · guiseB
- 11 AABBB yearsA · tearsA · whoB · knewB · blewB
- 12 ABBAA roarA · throughB · newB · shoreA · moreA
- 13 AABCCB otherA · motherA · melodiesB · steepC · deepC · seesB
- 14 ABBAAB hereA · brimB · dimB · hydrosphereA · nearA · himB
- 15 ABB-AB formA · lineB · divineB · incarnadine · warmA · thineB
- 16 ABABABAA constellationsA · strainsB · reverberationsA · plainsB · improvisationsA · manesB · declinesA · chinesA
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| WHERE we made the fire, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| In the summer time, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Of branch and briar | 5 | ···/˘ |
| On the hill to the sea | 6 | ······ |
| I slowly climb | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Through winter mire, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| And scan and trace | 4 | ···· |
| The forsaken place | 5 | ·˘/˘· |
| Quite readily. | 4 | ·/˘˘ |
| Now a cold wind blows, | 5 | ····· |
| And the grass is gray, | 5 | ····· |
| But the spot still shows | 5 | ····· |
| As a burnt circle—aye, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And stick-ends, charred, | 4 | ···· |
| Still strew the sward | 4 | ···· |
| Whereon I stand, | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Last relic of the band | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Who came that day! | 4 | ···· |
| Yes, I am here | 4 | ···· |
| Just as last year, | 4 | ···· |
| And the sea breathes brine | 5 | ····· |
| From its strange straight line | 5 | ····· |
| Up hither, the same | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| As when we four came. | 5 | ····· |
| —But two have wandered far | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| From this grassy rise | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Into urban roar | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Where no picnics are, | 5 | ··/·· |
| And one—has shut her eyes | 6 | ······ |
| For evermore. | 4 | ·/˘· |
| (With thoughts of Leslie Stephen) | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| (June 1897) | 1 | · |
| ALOOF, as if a thing of mood and whim; | 10 | ˘/········ |
| Now that its spare and desolate figure gleams | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Upon my nearing vision, less it seems | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| A looming Alp-height than a guise of him | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Who scaled its horn with ventured life and limb, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Drawn on by vague imaginings, maybe, | 9 | ····˘/˘/˘ |
| Of semblance to his personality | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| In its quaint glooms, keen lights, and rugged trim. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| At his last change, when Life’s dull coils unwind, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Will he, in old love, hitherward escape, | 10 | ·····/˘˘˘/ |
| And the eternal essence of his mind | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| Enter this silent adamantine shape, | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| And his low voicing haunt its slipping snows | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| When dawn that calls the climber dyes them rose? | 9 | ·····/··· |
| (Algernon Charles Swinburne, 1837–1909) | 6 | /˘˘··· |
| In this fair niche above the unslumbering sea, | 12 | ············ |
| That sentrys up and down all night, all day, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| From cove to promontory, from ness to bay, | 11 | ···/˘˘˘···· |
| The Fates have fitly bidden that he should be Pillowed eternally. | 16 | ···/˘/˘····/˘˘/˘ |
| —It was as though a garland of red roses | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| Had fallen about the hood of some smug nun | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| When irresponsibly dropped as from the sun, | 9 | ·˘/˘····· |
| In fulth of numbers freaked with musical closes, | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Upon Victoria’s formal middle time | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘/˘· |
| His leaves of rhythm and rhyme. | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| O that far morning of a summer day | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| When, down a terraced street whose pavements lay | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Glassing the sunshine into my bent eyes, | 10 | /˘·/······ |
| I walked and read with a quick glad surprise | 10 | ········˘/ |
| New words, in classic guise,— | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The passionate pages of his earlier years, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Fraught with hot sighs, sad laughters, kisses, tears; | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Fresh-fluted notes, yet from a minstrel who | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Blew them not naïvely, but as one who knew | 11 | ··········· |
| Full well why thus he blew. | 6 | ······ |
| I still can hear the brabble and the roar | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| At those thy tunes, O still one, now passed through | 10 | ·········· |
| That fitful fire of tongues then entered new! | 10 | ·/˘/···/˘· |
| Their power is spent like spindrift on this shore; | 10 | ·/···/˘··· |
| Thine swells yet more and more. | 6 | ······ |
| —His singing-mistress verily was no other | 12 | ·/˘/˘/˘˘··/˘ |
| Than she the Lesbian, she the music-mother | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Of all the tribe that feel in melodies; | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Who leapt, love-anguished, from the Leucadian steep | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| Into the rambling world-encircling deep | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| Which hides her where none sees. | 6 | ······ |
| And one can hold in thought that nightly here | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| His phantom may draw down to the water’s brim, | 11 | ·/˘·····/˘· |
| And hers come up to meet it, as a dim | 10 | ·········· |
| Lone shine upon the heaving hydrosphere, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| And mariners wonder as they traverse near, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Unknowing of her and him. | 7 | ˘/˘···· |
| One dreams him sighing to her spectral form: | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| “O teacher, where lies hid thy burning line; | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Where are those songs, O poetess divine | 10 | ·····/˘˘˘/ |
| Whose very arts are love incarnadine?” | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘˘ |
| And her smile back: “Disciple true and warm, | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| Sufficient now are thine.” . . . | 6 | ˘/˘··· |
| So here, beneath the waking constellations, | 11 | ·····/˘·˘/˘ |
| Where the waves peal their everlasting strains, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| And their dull subterrene reverberations | 11 | ······˘·˘/˘ |
| Shake him when storms make mountains of their plains— | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Him once their peer in sad improvisations, | 10 | ·······˘/˘ |
| And deft as wind to cleave their frothy manes— | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I leave him, while the daylight gleam declines | 10 | ·····/··˘/ |
| Upon the capes and chines. | 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.