123. The Widows' Tears: Or, Dirge of Dorcas
Come pity us, all ye who seeOur harps hung on the willow tree:Come pity us, ye passers-byWho see or hear poor widows cry:Come pity us; and bring your earsAnd eyes to pity widows' tears.Chor. And when you are come hitherThen we will keepA fast, and weepOur eyes out altogether.
For Tabitha, who dead lies here,Clean washed, and laid out for the bier,O modest matrons, weep and wail!For now the corn and wine must fail:The basket and the bin of bread,Wherewith so many souls were fed,Chor. Stand empty here for ever:And ah! the poorAt thy worn doorShall be relieved never.
Woe worth the time, woe worth the dayThat 'reaved us of thee, Tabitha!For we have lost with thee the meal,The bits, the morsels, and the dealOf gentle paste and yielding doughThat thou on widows did'st bestow.Chor. All's gone, and death hath takenAway from usOur maundy; thusThy widows stand forsaken.
Ah, Dorcas, Dorcas! now adieuWe bid the cruse and pannier too:Ay, and the flesh, for and the fishDoled to us in that lordly dish.We take our leaves now of the loomFrom whence the housewives' cloth did come:Chor. The web affords now nothing;Thou being dead,The worsted threadIs cut, that made us clothing.
Farewell the flax and reaming woolWith which thy house was plentiful;Farewell the coats, the garments, andThe sheets, the rugs, made by thy hand;Farewell thy fire and thy lightThat ne'er went out by day or night:Chor. No, or thy zeal so speedy,That found a wayBy peep of day,To feed and cloth the needy.
But, ah, alas! the almond boughAnd olive branch is withered now.The wine press now is ta'en from us,The saffron and the calamus.The spice and spikenard hence is gone,The storax and the cinnamon.Chor. The carol of our gladnessHas taken wing,And our late springOf mirth is turned to sadness.
How wise wast thou in all thy ways!How worthy of respect and praise!How matron-like didst thou go dressed!How soberly above the restOf those that prank it with their plumes,And jet it with their choice perfumes!Chor. Thy vestures were not flowing:Nor did the streetAccuse thy feetOf mincing in their going.
And though thou here li'st dead, we seeA deal of beauty yet in thee.How sweetly shows thy smiling face,Thy lips with all-diffused grace!Thy hands, though cold, yet spotless white,And comely as the chrysolite!Chor. Thy belly like a hill is,Or as a neatClean heap of wheat,All set about with lilies.
Sleep with thy beauties here, while weWill show these garments made by thee;These were the coats, in these are readThe monuments of Dorcas dead.These were thy acts, and thou shall haveThese hung as honours o'er thy grave;Chor. And after us, distressed,Should fame be dumb,Thy very tombWould cry out, Thou art blessed.
Words in this poem
- altogether adv.
- All together; conjointly. [OE. altogedere; al all + togedere together. See Together.]
- bier n.
- A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
- wherewith adv.
- With which; -- used relatively.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- calamus n.
- The indian cane, a plant of the Palm family. It furnishes the common rattan. See Rattan, and Dragon's blood. [L., a reed. See Halm.]
- carol v. t.
- To praise or celebrate in song.
- sadness n.
- Heaviness; firmness.
- wast
- The second person singular of the verb be, in the indicative mood, imperfect tense; -- now used only in solemn or poetical style.
- didst
- , the 2d pers. sing. imp. of Do.
- soberly a.
- Grave; serious; solemn; sad.
- mincing a.
- That minces; characterized by primness or affected nicety.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
123. The Widows' Tears: Or, Dirge of Dorcas is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Hesperides & Noble Numbers: Vol. 1 and 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #22421; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Herrick, 123. The Widows' Tears: Or, Dirge of Dorcas, in Hesperides (1648), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #22421, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/herrick-hesperides/123-the-widows-tears-or-dirge-of-dorcas.html, id L06134.
Form and metre
123. The Widows' Tears: Or, Dirge of Dorcas is 90 lines in 9 stanzas of 10 lines each. It is in rhyming couplets, 53% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.2 syllables. 21 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 38% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 AABBCC-DD- seeA · treeA · byB · cryB · earsC · tearsC · hither · keepD · weepD · altogether
- 2 AABBCCD--D hereA · bierA · wailB · failB · breadC · fedC · everD · poor · door · neverD
- 3 --AABBCDDC day · tabitha · mealA · dealA · doughB · bestowB · takenC · usD · thusD · forsakenC
- 4 AABB---CC- adieuA · tooA · fishB · dishB · loom · come · nothing · deadC · threadC · clothing
- 5 AABBCCDEED woolA · plentifulA · andB · handB · lightC · nightC · speedyD · wayE · dayE · needyD
- 6 AA--BBCDDC boughA · nowA · us · calamus · goneB · cinnamonB · gladnessC · wingD · springD · sadnessC
- 7 AABBCCDEED waysA · praiseA · dressedB · restB · plumesC · perfumesC · flowingD · streetE · feetE · goingD
- 8 AABBCCDEED seeA · theeA · faceB · graceB · whiteC · chrysoliteC · isD · neatE · wheatE · liliesD
- 9 AABBCCD--D weA · theeA · readB · deadB · haveC · graveC · distressedD · dumb · tomb · blessedD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Come pity us, all ye who see | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Our harps hung on the willow tree: | 9 | /˘····/·· |
| Come pity us, ye passers-by | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Who see or hear poor widows cry: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Come pity us; and bring your ears | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And eyes to pity widows' tears. | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Chor. And when you are come hither | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Then we will keep | 4 | ···· |
| A fast, and weep | 4 | ···· |
| Our eyes out altogether. | 8 | /˘···˘/˘ |
| For Tabitha, who dead lies here, | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| Clean washed, and laid out for the bier, | 9 | ··˘······ |
| O modest matrons, weep and wail! | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| For now the corn and wine must fail: | 8 | ········ |
| The basket and the bin of bread, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Wherewith so many souls were fed, | 8 | ˘/·/˘··· |
| Chor. Stand empty here for ever: | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| And ah! the poor | 4 | ···· |
| At thy worn door | 4 | ···· |
| Shall be relieved never. | 6 | ··˘//˘ |
| Woe worth the time, woe worth the day | 8 | ········ |
| That 'reaved us of thee, Tabitha! | 9 | ··˘···/˘˘ |
| For we have lost with thee the meal, | 8 | ········ |
| The bits, the morsels, and the deal | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Of gentle paste and yielding dough | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| That thou on widows did'st bestow. | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Chor. All's gone, and death hath taken | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Away from us | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Our maundy; thus | 5 | /˘··· |
| Thy widows stand forsaken. | 7 | ·/˘·˘/˘ |
| Ah, Dorcas, Dorcas! now adieu | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| We bid the cruse and pannier too: | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| Ay, and the flesh, for and the fish | 8 | ········ |
| Doled to us in that lordly dish. | 9 | ·˘····/˘· |
| We take our leaves now of the loom | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| From whence the housewives' cloth did come: | 8 | ···/···· |
| Chor. The web affords now nothing; | 8 | ···˘/·/˘ |
| Thou being dead, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| The worsted thread | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Is cut, that made us clothing. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Farewell the flax and reaming wool | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| With which thy house was plentiful; | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Farewell the coats, the garments, and | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| The sheets, the rugs, made by thy hand; | 8 | ········ |
| Farewell thy fire and thy light | 8 | ·/·/˘··· |
| That ne'er went out by day or night: | 8 | ········ |
| Chor. No, or thy zeal so speedy, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| That found a way | 4 | ···· |
| By peep of day, | 4 | ···· |
| To feed and cloth the needy. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| But, ah, alas! the almond bough | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| And olive branch is withered now. | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| The wine press now is ta'en from us, | 8 | ········ |
| The saffron and the calamus. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| The spice and spikenard hence is gone, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The storax and the cinnamon. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| Chor. The carol of our gladness | 9 | ··/˘·/˘/˘ |
| Has taken wing, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| And our late spring | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| Of mirth is turned to sadness. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| How wise wast thou in all thy ways! | 8 | ········ |
| How worthy of respect and praise! | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| How matron-like didst thou go dressed! | 9 | ·/˘·····˘ |
| How soberly above the rest | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| Of those that prank it with their plumes, | 8 | ········ |
| And jet it with their choice perfumes! | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Chor. Thy vestures were not flowing: | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Nor did the street | 4 | ···· |
| Accuse thy feet | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Of mincing in their going. | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| And though thou here li'st dead, we see | 8 | ········ |
| A deal of beauty yet in thee. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| How sweetly shows thy smiling face, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Thy lips with all-diffused grace! | 7 | ····˘/· |
| Thy hands, though cold, yet spotless white, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And comely as the chrysolite! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| Chor. Thy belly like a hill is, | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Or as a neat | 4 | ···· |
| Clean heap of wheat, | 4 | ···· |
| All set about with lilies. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Sleep with thy beauties here, while we | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Will show these garments made by thee; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| These were the coats, in these are read | 8 | ········ |
| The monuments of Dorcas dead. | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘· |
| These were thy acts, and thou shall have | 8 | ········ |
| These hung as honours o'er thy grave; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Chor. And after us, distressed, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Should fame be dumb, | 4 | ···· |
| Thy very tomb | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Would cry out, Thou art blessed. | 6 | ······ |
Notes from the edition 1
Word-glosses from Pollard's edition (Muses' Library, 1891; Project Gutenberg #22421).
- Stanza 9 Deal: portion · Maundy: the alms given on Thursday in Holy Week · Reaming: drawing out into threads · Calamus: a fragrant plant, the sweet flag · Chrysolite: the topaz
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