A Penitent’s Return

Felicia Hemans (1793–1835) · 1808–1835

iambic pentameter · ABBA · 56 lines · from Poems

“Can guilt or misery ever enter here?Ah, no! the spirit of domestic peace,Though calm and gentle as the brooding dove,And ever murmuring forth a quiet song,Guards, powerful as the sword of cherubim,The hallow’d porch. She hath a heavenly smile,That sinks into the sullen soul of Vice,And wins him o’er to virtue.”--Wilson.

My father’s house once more,In its own moonlight beauty! Yet around,Something, amidst the dewy calm profound,Broods, never mark’d before!

Is it the brooding night?Is it the shivery creeping on the air,That makes the home so tranquil and so fair,O’erwhelming to my sight?

All solemnised it seems,And still’d, and darken’d in each time-worn hue,Since the rich, clustering roses met my view,As now, by starry gleams.

And this high elm, where lastI stood and linger’d--where my sisters madeOur mother’s bower--I deem’d not that it castSo far and dark a shade!

How spirit-like a toneSighs through yon tree! My father’s place was thereAt evening hours, while soft winds waved his hair!Now those gray locks are gone!

My soul grows faint with fear!Even as if angel-steps had mark’d the sod.I tremble where I move--the voice of GodIs in the foliage here!

Is it indeed the nightThat makes my home so awful? Faithless-hearted!’Tis that from thine own bosom hath departedThe inborn, gladdening light!

No outward thing is changed;Only the joy of purity is fled,And, long from nature’s melodies estranged,Thou hear’st their tones with dread.

Therefore the calm abode,By thy dark spirit, is o’erhung with shade;And therefore, in the leaves, the voice of GodMakes thy sick heart afraid!

The night-flowers round that doorStill breathe pure fragrance on the untainted air;Thou, thou alone art worthy now no moreTo pass, and rest thee there.

And must I turn away?--Hark, hark!--it is my mother’s voice I hear--Sadder than once it seem’d--yet soft and clear;--Doth she not seem to pray?

My name!--I caught the sound!Oh! blessed tone of love--the deep, the mild!Mother! my mother! now receive thy child:Take back the lost and found!

Words in this poem

cherubim n.: The Hebrew plural of Cherub.. Cf. Seraphim.
hallow v. t.: To make holy; to set apart for holy or religious use; to consecrate; to treat or keep as sacred; to reverence. [OE. halowen, halwien, halgien, AS. halgian, fr. halig holy. See Holy.]
sullen a.: Lonely; solitary; desolate. Wyclif (Job iii. 14). [OE. solein, solain, lonely, sullen; through Old French fr. (assumed) LL. solanus solitary, fr. L. solus alone. See Sole, a.]
amidst prep.: In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
shivery a.: Tremulous; shivering. Mallet.
starry a.: Abounding with stars; adorned with stars.
deem v. t.: To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
abode n.: Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

A Penitent’s Return is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Felicia Hemans, Project Gutenberg ebook #66785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Felicia Hemans, A Penitent’s Return, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/a-penitent-s-return.html, id L19775.

Form and metre

A Penitent’s Return is 56 lines in 13 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABBA, complete in 7 of its 13 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).

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.

2 ABBA more^A · around^B · profound^B · before^A
3 ABBA night^A · air^B · fair^B · sight^A
4 ABBA seems^A · hue^B · view^B · gleams^A
5 ABAB last^A · made^B · cast^A · shade^B
6 -AA- tone · there^A · hair^A · gone
7 ABBA fear^A · sod^B · god^B · here^A
8 ABBA night^A · hearted^B · departed^B · light^A
9 ABAB changed^A · fled^B · estranged^A · dread^B
10 -A-A abode · shade^A · god · afraid^A
11 ABAB door^A · air^B · more^A · there^B
12 ABBA away^A · hear^B · clear^B · pray^A
13 ABBA sound^A · mild^B · child^B · found^A

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
“Can guilt or misery ever enter here?	10	···/˘˘//˘·
Ah, no! the spirit of domestic peace,	10	···/˘·˘/˘·
Though calm and gentle as the brooding dove,	10	···/˘··/˘·
And ever murmuring forth a quiet song,	10	·//˘˘··/˘·
Guards, powerful as the sword of cherubim,	11	·/˘˘····/˘˘
The hallow’d porch. She hath a heavenly smile,	10	·/˘····/˘·
That sinks into the sullen soul of Vice,	10	·····/˘···
And wins him o’er to virtue.”--Wilson.	9	·····/˘/˘
My father’s house once more,	6	·/˘···
In its own moonlight beauty! Yet around,	10	···/·/˘···
Something, amidst the dewy calm profound,	10	/˘˘/·/˘·˘/
Broods, never mark’d before!	6	·/˘···
Is it the brooding night?	6	···/˘·
Is it the shivery creeping on the air,	11	···/˘˘/˘···
That makes the home so tranquil and so fair,	10	·····/˘···
O’erwhelming to my sight?	6	······
All solemnised it seems,	6	······
And still’d, and darken’d in each time-worn hue,	10	···/˘·····
Since the rich, clustering roses met my view,	10	···/˘/˘···
As now, by starry gleams.	6	···/˘·
And this high elm, where last	6	······
I stood and linger’d--where my sisters made	10	···/˘··/˘·
Our mother’s bower--I deem’d not that it cast	10	//˘/······
So far and dark a shade!	6	······
How spirit-like a tone	6	·/˘···
Sighs through yon tree! My father’s place was there	10	·····/˘···
At evening hours, while soft winds waved his hair!	10	·/˘/······
Now those gray locks are gone!	6	······
My soul grows faint with fear!	6	······
Even as if angel-steps had mark’d the sod.	10	/··/˘·····
I tremble where I move--the voice of God	10	·/˘·······
Is in the foliage here!	6	···/˘·
Is it indeed the night	6	··˘/··
That makes my home so awful? Faithless-hearted!	11	·····/˘/˘/˘
’Tis that from thine own bosom hath departed	11	·····/˘·˘/˘
The inborn, gladdening light!	7	·/·/˘˘·
No outward thing is changed;	6	·/˘···
Only the joy of purity is fled,	10	/˘···/˘˘··
And, long from nature’s melodies estranged,	10	···/˘/˘˘˘/
Thou hear’st their tones with dread.	6	······
Therefore the calm abode,	6	····˘/
By thy dark spirit, is o’erhung with shade;	10	···/˘·····
And therefore, in the leaves, the voice of God	10	··········
Makes thy sick heart afraid!	6	····˘/
The night-flowers round that door	7	··/˘···
Still breathe pure fragrance on the untainted air;	11	···/˘··˘/˘·
Thou, thou alone art worthy now no more	10	··˘/·/˘···
To pass, and rest thee there.	6	······
And must I turn away?--	6	····˘/
Hark, hark!--it is my mother’s voice I hear--	10	·····/˘···
Sadder than once it seem’d--yet soft and clear;--	10	/˘········
Doth she not seem to pray?	6	······
My name!--I caught the sound!	6	······
Oh! blessed tone of love--the deep, the mild!	9	·········
Mother! my mother! now receive thy child:	10	/˘·/˘·˘/··
Take back the lost and found!	6	······

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