To a Young Poet Who Killed Himself
When you had played with life a spaceAnd made it drink and lust and sing,You flung it back into God's faceAnd thought you did a noble thing."Lo, I have lived and loved," you said,"And sung to fools too dull to hear me.Now for a cool and grassy bedWith violets in blossom near me."
Well, rest is good for weary feet,Although they ran for no great prize;And violets are very sweet,Although their roots are in your eyes.But hark to what the earthworms sayWho share with you your muddy haven:"The fight was on -- you ran away.You are a coward and a craven.
"The rug is ruined where you bled;It was a dirty way to die!To put a bullet through your headAnd make a silly woman cry!You could not vex the merry starsNor make them heed you, dead or living.Not all your puny anger marsGod's irresistible forgiving.
"Yes, God forgives and men forget,And you're forgiven and forgotten.You might be gaily sinning yetAnd quick and fresh instead of rotten.And when you think of love and fameAnd all that might have come to pass,Then don't you feel a little shame?And don't you think you were an ass?"
Words in this poem
- lust v. i.
- To list; to like. [AS. lystan. See Lust, n., and cf. List to choose.]
- craven v. t.
- To make recreant, weak, spiritless, or cowardly.
- puny a.
- Imperfectly developed in size or vigor; small and feeble; inferior; petty. [F. puîté younger, later born, OF. puisné; puis afterwards (L. post; see Post-) + né born, L. natus. See Natal, and cf. Puisne.]
- forgiving a.
- Disposed to forgive; inclined to overlook offenses; mild; merciful; compassionate; placable; as, a forgiving temper.
- gaily adv.
- Merrily; showily. See gaily. [From Gay.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To a Young Poet Who Killed Himself 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, To a Young Poet Who Killed Himself, in Trees and Other Poems (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #263, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kilmer-trees/to-a-young-poet-who-killed-himself.html, id L12899.
Form and metre
To a Young Poet Who Killed Himself is 32 lines in 4 stanzas of 8 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABCDCD. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 6 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 28% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 ABABCDCD spaceA · singB · faceA · thingB · saidC · meD · bedC · meD
- 2 ABABCDCD feetA · prizeB · sweetA · eyesB · sayC · havenD · awayC · cravenD
- 3 ABABCDCD bledA · dieB · headA · cryB · starsC · livingD · marsC · forgivingD
- 4 ABABCDCD forgetA · forgottenB · yetA · rottenB · fameC · passD · shameC · assD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| When you had played with life a space | 8 | ········ |
| And made it drink and lust and sing, | 8 | ········ |
| You flung it back into God's face | 8 | ········ |
| And thought you did a noble thing. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| "Lo, I have lived and loved," you said, | 8 | ········ |
| "And sung to fools too dull to hear me. | 9 | ········· |
| Now for a cool and grassy bed | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| With violets in blossom near me." | 8 | ·/˘·/˘·· |
| Well, rest is good for weary feet, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Although they ran for no great prize; | 8 | ········ |
| And violets are very sweet, | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘· |
| Although their roots are in your eyes. | 8 | ········ |
| But hark to what the earthworms say | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Who share with you your muddy haven: | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| "The fight was on -- you ran away. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| You are a coward and a craven. | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| "The rug is ruined where you bled; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| It was a dirty way to die! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| To put a bullet through your head | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And make a silly woman cry! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| You could not vex the merry stars | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Nor make them heed you, dead or living. | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Not all your puny anger mars | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| God's irresistible forgiving. | 9 | ··˘/˘˘˘/˘ |
| "Yes, God forgives and men forget, | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| And you're forgiven and forgotten. | 9 | ··˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| You might be gaily sinning yet | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And quick and fresh instead of rotten. | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| And when you think of love and fame | 8 | ········ |
| And all that might have come to pass, | 8 | ········ |
| Then don't you feel a little shame? | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And don't you think you were an ass?" | 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.