The Dial of Flowers
’Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours,As they floated in light away,By the opening and the folding flowers,That laugh to the summer’s day.
Thus had each moment its own rich hue,And its graceful cup and bell,In whose colour’d vase might sleep the dew,Like a pearl in an ocean-shell.
To such sweet signs might the time have flow’dIn a golden current on,Ere from the garden, man’s first abode,The glorious guests were gone.
So might the days have been brightly told--Those days of song and dreams--When shepherds gather’d their flocks of oldBy the blue Arcadian streams.
So in those isles of delight, that restFar off in a breezeless main,Which many a bark, with a weary quest,Has sought, but still in vain.
Yet is not life, in its real flight,Mark’d thus--even thus--on earth,By the closing of one hope’s delight,And another’s gentle birth?
Oh! let us live, so that flower by flower,Shutting in turn, may leaveA lingerer still for the sunset hour,A charm for the shaded eve.
Words in this poem
- 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.]
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- arcadian a.
- Of or pertaining to Arcadia; pastoral; ideally rural; as, Arcadian simplicity or scenery. [L. Arcadius, Arcadicus, fr. Arcadia: cf. F. Arcadien, Arcadique.]
- breezeless a.
- Motionless; destitute of breezes.
- lingerer n.
- One who lingers. Guardian.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Dial of Flowers 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, The Dial of Flowers, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/the-dial-of-flowers.html, id L19380.
Form and metre
The Dial of Flowers is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 81%).
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 ABAB hoursA · awayB · flowersA · dayB
- 2 ABAB hueA · bellB · dewA · shellB
- 3 ABAB flow'dA · onB · abodeA · goneB
- 4 ABAB toldA · dreamsB · oldA · streamsB
- 5 ABAB restA · mainB · questA · vainB
- 6 ABAB flightA · earthB · delightA · birthB
- 7 ABAB flowerA · leaveB · hourA · eveB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| ’Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours, | 10 | ··/˘····/˘ |
| As they floated in light away, | 8 | ··/˘··˘/ |
| By the opening and the folding flowers, | 11 | ··/˘˘··/˘/˘ |
| That laugh to the summer’s day. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Thus had each moment its own rich hue, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And its graceful cup and bell, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| In whose colour’d vase might sleep the dew, | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Like a pearl in an ocean-shell. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To such sweet signs might the time have flow’d | 9 | ········· |
| In a golden current on, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Ere from the garden, man’s first abode, | 9 | ···/˘··˘/ |
| The glorious guests were gone. | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| So might the days have been brightly told-- | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Those days of song and dreams-- | 6 | ······ |
| When shepherds gather’d their flocks of old | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| By the blue Arcadian streams. | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| So in those isles of delight, that rest | 9 | ·····˘/·· |
| Far off in a breezeless main, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Which many a bark, with a weary quest, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Has sought, but still in vain. | 6 | ······ |
| Yet is not life, in its real flight, | 8 | ········ |
| Mark’d thus--even thus--on earth, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| By the closing of one hope’s delight, | 9 | ··/˘···˘/ |
| And another’s gentle birth? | 7 | ·˘/˘/˘· |
| Oh! let us live, so that flower by flower, | 11 | ······/˘·/˘ |
| Shutting in turn, may leave | 6 | /˘···· |
| A lingerer still for the sunset hour, | 11 | ·/˘˘···/·/˘ |
| A charm for the shaded eve. | 7 | ····/˘· |
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