The Young Girl's Poem
KISS mine eyelids, beauteous Morn,Blushing into life new-born!Lend me violets for my hair,And thy russet robe to wear,And thy ring of rosiest hueSet in drops of diamond dew!
Kiss my cheek, thou noontide ray,From my Love so far awayLet thy splendor streaming downTurn its pallid lilies brown,Till its darkening shades revealWhere his passion pressed its seal!
Kiss my lips, thou Lord of light,Kiss my lips a soft good-night!Westward sinks thy golden car;Leave me but the evening star,And my solace that shall be,Borrowing all its light from thee!
WHATEVER I do, and whatever I say,Aunt Tabitha tells me that is n't the way;When she was a girl (forty summers ago)Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.
Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice!But I like my own way, and I find it so niceAnd besides, I forget half the things I am told;But they all will come back to me--when I am old.
If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt,He may chance to look in as I chance to look out;She would never endure an impertinent stare,--It is horrid, she says, and I must n't sit there.
A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own,But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone;So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,--But Aunt Tabitha tells me they did n't do so.
How wicked we are, and how good they were then!They kept at arm's length those detestable men;What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay--Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?
If the men were so wicked, I 'll ask my papaHow he dared to propose to my darling mamma;Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows?And what shall I say, if a wretch should propose?
I am thinking if Aunt knew so little of sin,What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been!And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sadThat we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad!
A martyr will save us, and nothing else can;Let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man!Though when to the altar a victim I go,Aunt Tabitha 'll tell me she never did so.
Words in this poem
- beauteous a.
- Full of beauty; beautiful; very handsome. [Mostly poetic] -- Beau"te*ous*ly, adv. --
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- noontide n.
- The time of noon; midday. [From noon + tide time; cf. AS. n the ninth hour.]
- streaming a.
- Sending forth streams.
- solace n.
- Comfort in grief; alleviation of grief or anxiety; also, that which relieves in distress; that which cheers or consoles; relief. [OF. solas, ssoulaz, L. solacium, solatium, fr. solari to comfort, console. Cf. Console, v. t.]
- 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,]
- horrid a.
- Rough; rugged; bristling. [L. horridus. See Horror, and cf. Ordure.]
- papa n.
- A child's word for father. [F. papa, L. papa; cf. Gr. Pope.]
- propose v. i.
- To speak; to converse.
- frightfully adv.
- In a frightful manner; to a frightful dagree.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Young Girl's Poem is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 06 Poems from the Breakfast Table Series, Project Gutenberg ebook #7393; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Young Girl's Poem, in Poems from the Breakfast-Table Series (1858), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #7393, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/holmes-breakfast-table-poems/the-young-girl-s-poem.html, id L23582.
Form and metre
The Young Girl's Poem is 50 lines in 11 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABB, complete in 7 of its 11 stanzas. The metre is anapaestic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%).
See other poems in anapaestic 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 mornA · bornA · hairB · wearB · hueC · dewC
- 2 AABBCC rayA · awayA · downB · brownB · revealC · sealC
- 3 AABBCC lightA · nightA · carB · starB · beC · theeC
- 4 AABB sayA · wayA · agoB · soB
- 5 AABB adviceA · niceA · toldB · oldB
- 6 AABB doubtA · outA · stareB · thereB
- 7 AABB ownA · aloneA · knowB · soB
- 8 AABB thenA · menA · stayB · dayB
- 9 --AA papa · mamma · knowsA · proposeA
- 10 AABB sinA · beenA · sadB · badB
- 11 AABB canA · manA · goB · soB
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 anapaestic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| KISS mine eyelids, beauteous Morn, | 8 | ··/·/˘˘· |
| Blushing into life new-born! | 7 | /˘····· |
| Lend me violets for my hair, | 8 | ··/˘˘··· |
| And thy russet robe to wear, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And thy ring of rosiest hue | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Set in drops of diamond dew! | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Kiss my cheek, thou noontide ray, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| From my Love so far away | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Let thy splendor streaming down | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Turn its pallid lilies brown, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Till its darkening shades reveal | 8 | ··/˘˘·˘/ |
| Where his passion pressed its seal! | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Kiss my lips, thou Lord of light, | 7 | ······· |
| Kiss my lips a soft good-night! | 7 | ······· |
| Westward sinks thy golden car; | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Leave me but the evening star, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| And my solace that shall be, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Borrowing all its light from thee! | 8 | /˘˘····· |
| WHATEVER I do, and whatever I say, | 11 | ·/˘····/˘·· |
| Aunt Tabitha tells me that is n't the way; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| When she was a girl (forty summers ago) | 11 | ·····/˘/˘˘/ |
| Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so. | 10 | ·/˘˘···/·· |
| Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice! | 11 | ····/˘···˘/ |
| But I like my own way, and I find it so nice | 12 | ············ |
| And besides, I forget half the things I am told; | 12 | ··/·˘/······ |
| But they all will come back to me--when I am old. | 12 | ············ |
| If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt, | 12 | ···/˘···/˘·· |
| He may chance to look in as I chance to look out; | 12 | ············ |
| She would never endure an impertinent stare,-- | 10 | ··/˘/·˘/˘· |
| It is horrid, she says, and I must n't sit there. | 12 | ··/˘········ |
| A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own, | 11 | ····/··/˘·· |
| But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone; | 12 | ········/˘˘/ |
| So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,-- | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| But Aunt Tabitha tells me they did n't do so. | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| How wicked we are, and how good they were then! | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| They kept at arm's length those detestable men; | 11 | ······˘/˘˘· |
| What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay-- | 12 | ··/˘·/˘····· |
| Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day? | 11 | ········/˘· |
| If the men were so wicked, I 'll ask my papa | 13 | ·····/˘····/˘ |
| How he dared to propose to my darling mamma; | 12 | ····˘/··/˘/˘ |
| Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows? | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| And what shall I say, if a wretch should propose? | 11 | ·········˘/ |
| I am thinking if Aunt knew so little of sin, | 12 | ··/˘····/˘·· |
| What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been! | 11 | ··/˘·/˘···· |
| And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad | 11 | ········/˘· |
| That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad! | 11 | ········/˘· |
| A martyr will save us, and nothing else can; | 11 | ·/˘····/˘·· |
| Let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man! | 12 | ··/˘·/˘·/˘·· |
| Though when to the altar a victim I go, | 11 | ····/˘·/˘·· |
| Aunt Tabitha 'll tell me she never did so. | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
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.