Alarm Clocks
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farmAcross green fields and yellow hills of hayThe little twittering birds laugh in his wayAnd poise triumphant on his shining arm.He bears a sword of flame but not to harmThe wakened life that feels his quickening swayAnd barnyard voices shrilling "It is day!"Take by his grace a new and alien charm.
But in the city, like a wounded thingThat limps to cover from the angry chase,He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing,And wanly mock his young and shameful face;And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ringIn many a high and dreary sleeping place.
Words in this poem
- twittering n.
- The act of one who, or that which, twitters.
- quickening n.
- The act or process of making or of becoming quick.
- barnyard n.
- A yard belonging to a barn.
- angry a.
- Troublesome; vexatious; rigorous. [See Anger.]
- wanly adv.
- In a wan, or pale, manner.
- fervor n.
- Heat; excessive warmth. [OF. fervor, fervour, F. ferveur, L. fervor, fr. fervere. See Fervent.]
- dreary a.
- Sorrowful; distressful. [OE. dreori, dreri, AS. dreórig, sad; akin to G. traurig, and prob. to AS. dreósan to fall, Goth. driusan. Cf. Dross, Drear, Drizzle, Drowse.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Alarm Clocks is in the public domain. This text is taken from Trees, and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #263; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Joyce Kilmer, Alarm Clocks, in Trees and Other Poems (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #263, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kilmer-trees/alarm-clocks.html, id L12915.
Form and metre
Alarm Clocks is 14 lines in 2 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 50% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ABBAABBA farmA · hayB · wayB · armA · harmA · swayB · dayB · charmA
- 2 ABABAB thingA · chaseB · singA · faceB · ringA · placeB
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Across green fields and yellow hills of hay | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| The little twittering birds laugh in his way | 11 | ·/˘/˘˘····· |
| And poise triumphant on his shining arm. | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| He bears a sword of flame but not to harm | 10 | ·········· |
| The wakened life that feels his quickening sway | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And barnyard voices shrilling "It is day!" | 10 | ·/·/˘/˘··· |
| Take by his grace a new and alien charm. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| But in the city, like a wounded thing | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| That limps to cover from the angry chase, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And wanly mock his young and shameful face; | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| In many a high and dreary sleeping place. | 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.