Marsey Town
As I came over the Hill of ClayneOr ever the leaf was brown,The wind blew light in the pods of broom,For the gay, gold flower had lost its bloom,And “O the jewel,” I sang again,“That’s waiting in Marsey Town!”
The shadows raced on the sun-swept hill,And dappled its ancient crown,The kestrel hovered on wings outspread,The rabbit slipped through the bracken-bedAnd the world beat time as I sang my fillAnd travelled to Marsey Town.
O foolish singer and foolish song!The lure of a pinchbeck clownHad thieved my jewel, my heart’s own core,My goal was gained, but I sang no more,And I turned me home as the shades grew longFrom the steeples of Marsey Town.
A lad came over the Hill of ClayneA-singing as he stepped down--Aye me! forget what a fool has said,For I called him “I” but he’s long, long dead--Dumb--gone like the sound of his own refrainAnd buried in Marsey Town!
Words in this poem
- dappled a.
- Marked with spots of different shades of color; spotted; variegated; as, a dapple horse.
- outspread v. t.
- To spread out; to expand; -- usually as a past part. or adj.
- pinchbeck n.
- An alloy of copper and zinc, resembling gold; a yellow metal, composed of about three ounces of zinc to a pound of copper. It is much used as an imitation of gold in the manufacture of cheap jewelry. [Said to be from the name of the inventor; cf. It. prencisbecco.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Marsey Town is in the public domain. This text is taken from Bonnie Joann, and other poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #69484; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Violet Jacob, Marsey Town, in Bonnie Joann, and Other Poems (1921), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #69484, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/jacob-bonnie-joann/marsey-town.html, id L21956.
Form and metre
Marsey Town is 24 lines in 4 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABCCAB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 78%).
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 ABCCAB clayneA · brownB · broomC · bloomC · againA · townB
- 2 ABCCAB hillA · crownB · outspreadC · bedC · fillA · townB
- 3 ABCCAB songA · clownB · coreC · moreC · longA · townB
- 4 ABCCAB clayneA · downB · saidC · deadC · refrainA · townB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| As I came over the Hill of Clayne | 8 | ········ |
| Or ever the leaf was brown, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| The wind blew light in the pods of broom, | 9 | ········· |
| For the gay, gold flower had lost its bloom, | 9 | ····/···· |
| And “O the jewel,” I sang again, | 8 | ···/··˘/ |
| “That’s waiting in Marsey Town!” | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| The shadows raced on the sun-swept hill, | 9 | ·/······· |
| And dappled its ancient crown, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The kestrel hovered on wings outspread, | 9 | ·/˘/˘··˘/ |
| The rabbit slipped through the bracken-bed | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| And the world beat time as I sang my fill | 10 | ·········· |
| And travelled to Marsey Town. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| O foolish singer and foolish song! | 9 | ·/˘/˘·/˘· |
| The lure of a pinchbeck clown | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Had thieved my jewel, my heart’s own core, | 8 | ···/···· |
| My goal was gained, but I sang no more, | 9 | ········· |
| And I turned me home as the shades grew long | 10 | ·········· |
| From the steeples of Marsey Town. | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| A lad came over the Hill of Clayne | 8 | ········ |
| A-singing as he stepped down-- | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Aye me! forget what a fool has said, | 9 | ··˘/····· |
| For I called him “I” but he’s long, long dead-- | 10 | ·········· |
| Dumb--gone like the sound of his own refrain | 10 | ········˘/ |
| And buried in Marsey Town! | 7 | ·/˘···· |
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.