The Look-out
You grumble and sweat;my ears are acuteto catch your complaint,almost the sea’s roar is lessthan your constant threatof “back and back to the shore,and let us rest.”
You grumble and curse your luckand I hear:“O Lynceus,aloft by the prow,his head on his arms,his eyes half closed,almost asleep,to watch for a rock,(and hardly ever we needhis ‘to left’ or ‘to right’)let Lynceus have my part,let me rest like Lynceus.”
“Rest like Lynceus!”I’d change my fate for yours,the very least,I’d take an oar with the rest.
O God, if I could speak,if I could taunt the lotof the wretched crew,with my fate, my work.
But I may not,I may not tellof the forms that pass and pass,of that constant old, old facethat leaps from each waveto wait underneath the boatin the hope that at last she’s lost.
Could I speak,I would tell of great mountainsthat flow, great weedsthat float and floatto tangle our oarsif I fail “to left, to right;”where the dolphin leapsyou saw a sign from the god,I saw why he leapt from the deep.
“To right, to left;”it is easy enoughto lean on the prow, half asleep,and you think,“no work for Lynceus.”No work?
If only you’d let me take an oar,if only my back could break with the hurt,if the sun could blister my feet,pain, pain that I might forgetthe face that just this momentpassed through the prowwhen you said, “asleep.”
Many and many a sightif I could speak,many and many tales I’d tell,many and many a struggle,many a death,many and many my hurtsand my pain so great,I’d gladly dieif I did not love the quest.
Grumble and swear and curse,brother, god and the boat,and the great waves,but could you guesswhat strange terror lurks in the sea-depth,you’d thank the gods for the ship,the timber and giant oars, god-like,and the god-like quest.
If you could see as I,what lurks in the sea-depth,you’d pray to the ropesand the solid timberslike god, like god;
you’d pray to the oars and your work,you’d pray and thankthe boat for her very self;timber and oar and plankand sail and the sail-ropes,these are beautiful things and great.
But Lynceus at the prowhas nothing to do but waittill we reach a shoal or some rocksand then he has only to lift his arms,right, left;O brother,I’d change my placefor the worst seatin the cramped bench,for an oar, for an hour’s toil,for sweat and the solid floor.
I’d change my placeas I sit with eyes half closed,if only I could see just the ringcut by the boat,if only I could see just the water,the crest and the broken crest,the bit of weed that rises on the crest,the dolphin only when he leaps.
But Lynceus,though they cannot guessthe hurt, though they do not thankthe oars for the dead peaceof heart and brain worn out,you must wait,alert, alert, alert.
Words in this poem
- grumble v. i.
- To murmur or mutter with discontent; to make ill-natured complaints in a low voice and a surly manner. [Cf. LG. grummeln, grumman, D. grommelen, grommen, and F. grommeler, of German origin; cf. W. grwm, murmur, grumble, surly. sq. root35. Cf. Grum, Grim.]
- tangle v. t.
- To unite or knit together confusedly; to interweave or interlock, as threads, so as to make it difficult to unravel the knot; to entangle; to ravel. [A frequentative fr. tang seaweed; hence, to twist like seaweed. See Tang seaweed, and cf. Tangle, n.]
- gladly adv.
- Preferably; by choice. [From Glad, a.]
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Look-out is in the public domain. This text is taken from Heliodora, and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #62456; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: H.D., The Look-out, in Heliodora, and Other Poems (1924), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #62456, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hd-heliodora/the-look-out.html, id L24324.
Form and metre
The Look-out is 110 lines in 15 stanzas. The metre is iambic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 83%).
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 A---A-- sweatA · acute · complaint · less · threatA · shore · rest
- 2 --A--------A luck · hear · lynceusA · prow · arms · closed · asleep · rock · need · right · part · lynceusA
- 9 --AA----- sight · speak · tellA · struggleA · death · hurts · great · die · quest
- 12 -A-A-- work · thankA · self · plankA · ropes · great
- 14 -----AA- place · closed · ring · boat · water · crestA · crestA · leaps
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 |
|---|---|---|
| You grumble and sweat; | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| my ears are acute | 5 | ···˘/ |
| to catch your complaint, | 5 | ···˘/ |
| almost the sea’s roar is less | 7 | /······ |
| than your constant threat | 5 | ··/˘· |
| of “back and back to the shore, | 7 | ······· |
| and let us rest.” | 4 | ···· |
| You grumble and curse your luck | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| and I hear: | 3 | ··· |
| “O Lynceus, | 3 | ··· |
| aloft by the prow, | 5 | ˘/··· |
| his head on his arms, | 5 | ····· |
| his eyes half closed, | 4 | ···· |
| almost asleep, | 4 | /·˘/ |
| to watch for a rock, | 5 | ····· |
| (and hardly ever we need | 7 | ·/˘/˘·· |
| his ‘to left’ or ‘to right’) | 6 | ······ |
| let Lynceus have my part, | 6 | ······ |
| let me rest like Lynceus.” | 6 | ······ |
| “Rest like Lynceus!” | 4 | ···· |
| I’d change my fate for yours, | 6 | ······ |
| the very least, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| I’d take an oar with the rest. | 7 | ······· |
| O God, if I could speak, | 6 | ······ |
| if I could taunt the lot | 6 | ······ |
| of the wretched crew, | 5 | ··/˘· |
| with my fate, my work. | 5 | ····· |
| But I may not, | 4 | ···· |
| I may not tell | 4 | ···· |
| of the forms that pass and pass, | 7 | ······· |
| of that constant old, old face | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| that leaps from each wave | 5 | ····· |
| to wait underneath the boat | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| in the hope that at last she’s lost. | 8 | ········ |
| Could I speak, | 3 | ··· |
| I would tell of great mountains | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| that flow, great weeds | 4 | ···· |
| that float and float | 4 | ···· |
| to tangle our oars | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| if I fail “to left, to right;” | 7 | ······· |
| where the dolphin leaps | 5 | ··/˘· |
| you saw a sign from the god, | 7 | ······· |
| I saw why he leapt from the deep. | 8 | ········ |
| “To right, to left;” | 4 | ···· |
| it is easy enough | 6 | ··/˘˘/ |
| to lean on the prow, half asleep, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| and you think, | 3 | ··· |
| “no work for Lynceus.” | 5 | ····· |
| No work? | 2 | ·· |
| If only you’d let me take an oar, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| if only my back could break with the hurt, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| if the sun could blister my feet, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| pain, pain that I might forget | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| the face that just this moment | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| passed through the prow | 4 | ···· |
| when you said, “asleep.” | 5 | ···˘/ |
| Many and many a sight | 7 | /˘·/˘·· |
| if I could speak, | 4 | ···· |
| many and many tales I’d tell, | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| many and many a struggle, | 8 | /˘·/˘·/˘ |
| many a death, | 4 | /˘·· |
| many and many my hurts | 7 | /˘·/˘·· |
| and my pain so great, | 5 | ····· |
| I’d gladly die | 4 | ·/˘· |
| if I did not love the quest. | 7 | ······· |
| Grumble and swear and curse, | 6 | /˘···· |
| brother, god and the boat, | 6 | /˘···· |
| and the great waves, | 4 | ···· |
| but could you guess | 4 | ···· |
| what strange terror lurks in the sea-depth, | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| you’d thank the gods for the ship, | 7 | ······· |
| the timber and giant oars, god-like, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘··· |
| and the god-like quest. | 5 | ····· |
| If you could see as I, | 6 | ······ |
| what lurks in the sea-depth, | 6 | ······ |
| you’d pray to the ropes | 5 | ····· |
| and the solid timbers | 6 | ··/˘/˘ |
| like god, like god; | 4 | ···· |
| you’d pray to the oars and your work, | 8 | ········ |
| you’d pray and thank | 4 | ···· |
| the boat for her very self; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| timber and oar and plank | 6 | /˘···· |
| and sail and the sail-ropes, | 6 | ······ |
| these are beautiful things and great. | 8 | ··/˘˘··· |
| But Lynceus at the prow | 6 | ······ |
| has nothing to do but wait | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| till we reach a shoal or some rocks | 8 | ········ |
| and then he has only to lift his arms, | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| right, left; | 2 | ·· |
| O brother, | 3 | ·/˘ |
| I’d change my place | 4 | ···· |
| for the worst seat | 4 | ···· |
| in the cramped bench, | 4 | ···· |
| for an oar, for an hour’s toil, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| for sweat and the solid floor. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| I’d change my place | 4 | ···· |
| as I sit with eyes half closed, | 7 | ······· |
| if only I could see just the ring | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| cut by the boat, | 4 | ···· |
| if only I could see just the water, | 10 | ·/˘·····/˘ |
| the crest and the broken crest, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| the bit of weed that rises on the crest, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| the dolphin only when he leaps. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| But Lynceus, | 3 | ··· |
| though they cannot guess | 5 | ··/˘· |
| the hurt, though they do not thank | 7 | ······· |
| the oars for the dead peace | 6 | ······ |
| of heart and brain worn out, | 6 | ······ |
| you must wait, | 3 | ··· |
| alert, alert, alert. | 6 | ˘/˘/˘/ |
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