Under the Violets
HER hands are cold; her face is white;No more her pulses come and go;Her eyes are shut to life and light;--Fold the white vesture, snow on snow,And lay her where the violets blow.
But not beneath a graven stone,To plead for tears with alien eyes;A slender cross of wood aloneShall say, that here a maiden liesIn peace beneath the peaceful skies.
And gray old trees of hugest limbShall wheel their circling shadows roundTo make the scorching sunlight dimThat drinks the greenness from the ground,And drop their dead leaves on her mound.
When o'er their boughs the squirrels run,And through their leaves the robins call,And, ripening in the autumn sun,The acorns and the chestnuts fall,Doubt not that she will heed them all.
For her the morning choir shall singIts matins from the branches high,And every minstrel-voice of Spring,That trills beneath the April sky,Shall greet her with its earliest cry.
When, turning round their dial-track,Eastward the lengthening shadows pass,Her little mourners, clad in black,The crickets, sliding through the grass,Shall pipe for her an evening mass.
At last the rootlets of the treesShall find the prison where she lies,And bear the buried dust they seizeIn leaves and blossoms to the skies.So may the soul that warmed it rise!
If any, born of kindlier blood,Should ask, What maiden lies below?Say only this: A tender bud,That tried to blossom in the snow,Lies withered where the violets blow.
Words in this poem
- graven p. p.
- Carved. Graven image, an idol; an object of worship carved from wood, stone, etc.
- 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,]
- scorching a.
- Burning; parching or shriveling with heat.
- clad v.
- To clothe. Holland.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Under the Violets 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, Under the Violets, in Poems from the Breakfast-Table Series (1858), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #7393, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/holmes-breakfast-table-poems/under-the-violets.html, id L23571.
Form and metre
Under the Violets is 40 lines in 8 stanzas of 5 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%).
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 ABABB whiteA · goB · lightA · snowB · blowB
- 2 ABABB stoneA · eyesB · aloneA · liesB · skiesB
- 3 ABABB limbA · roundB · dimA · groundB · moundB
- 4 ABABB runA · callB · sunA · fallB · allB
- 5 ABABB singA · highB · springA · skyB · cryB
- 6 ABABB trackA · passB · blackA · grassB · massB
- 7 ABABB treesA · liesB · seizeA · skiesB · riseB
- 8 ABABB bloodA · belowB · budA · snowB · blowB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| HER hands are cold; her face is white; | 8 | ········ |
| No more her pulses come and go; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Her eyes are shut to life and light;-- | 8 | ········ |
| Fold the white vesture, snow on snow, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And lay her where the violets blow. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But not beneath a graven stone, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To plead for tears with alien eyes; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| A slender cross of wood alone | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Shall say, that here a maiden lies | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In peace beneath the peaceful skies. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And gray old trees of hugest limb | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Shall wheel their circling shadows round | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| To make the scorching sunlight dim | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| That drinks the greenness from the ground, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And drop their dead leaves on her mound. | 8 | ········ |
| When o'er their boughs the squirrels run, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And through their leaves the robins call, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And, ripening in the autumn sun, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The acorns and the chestnuts fall, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Doubt not that she will heed them all. | 8 | ········ |
| For her the morning choir shall sing | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| Its matins from the branches high, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And every minstrel-voice of Spring, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| That trills beneath the April sky, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Shall greet her with its earliest cry. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| When, turning round their dial-track, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Eastward the lengthening shadows pass, | 8 | /˘·/˘/·· |
| Her little mourners, clad in black, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| The crickets, sliding through the grass, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Shall pipe for her an evening mass. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| At last the rootlets of the trees | 8 | ········ |
| Shall find the prison where she lies, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And bear the buried dust they seize | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| In leaves and blossoms to the skies. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| So may the soul that warmed it rise! | 8 | ········ |
| If any, born of kindlier blood, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Should ask, What maiden lies below? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Say only this: A tender bud, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| That tried to blossom in the snow, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Lies withered where the violets blow. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
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.