The Scissors-grinder
The old man had his box and wheelFor grinding knives and shears.No doubt his bell in village streetsWas joy to children's ears.And I bethought me of my youthWhen such men came around,And times I asked them in, quite sureThe scissors should be ground.The old man turned and spoke to me,His face at last in view.And then I thought those curious eyesWere eyes that once I knew.
"The moon is but an emery-wheelTo whet the sword of God,"He said. "And here beside my fireI stretch upon the sodEach night, and dream, and watch the starsAnd watch the ghost-clouds go.And see that sword of God in HeavenA-waving to and fro.I see that sword each century, friend.It means the world-war comesWith all its bloody, wicked chiefsAnd hate-inflaming drums.Men talk of peace, but I have seenThat emery-wheel turn round.The voice of Abel cries againTo God from out the ground.The ditches must flow red, the plagueGo stark and screaming byEach time that sword of God takes edgeWithin the midnight sky.And those that scorned their brothers hereAnd sowed a wind of shameWill reap the whirlwind as of oldAnd face relentless flame."
And thus the scissors-grinder spoke,His face at last in view.And there beside the railroad bridgeI saw the wandering Jew.
My lady in her white silk shawlIs like a lily dim,Within the twilight of the roomEnthroned and kind and prim.
My lady! Pale gold is her hair.Until she smiles her faceIs pale with far Hellenic moods,With thoughts that find no place
In our harsh village of the WestWherein she lives of late,She's distant as far-hidden stars,And cold--(almost!)--as fate.
But when she smiles she's here againRosy with comrade-cheer,A Puritan Bacchante madeTo laugh around the year.
The merry gentle moon herself,Heart-stirring too, like her,Wakening wild and innocent loveIn every worshipper.
Words in this poem
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- curious a.
- Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
- whet v. t.
- To rub or on with some substance, as a piece of stone, for the purpose of sharpening; to sharpen by attrition; as, to whet a knife. [AS. hwettan; akin to D. wetten, G. wetzen, OHG. wezzen, Icel. hvetja, Sw. vättja, and AS. hwæt vigorous, brave, OS. hwat, OHG. waz, was, sharp, Icel. hvatr, bol]
- ghost n.
- The spirit; the soul of man. [OE. gast, gost, soul, spirit, AS. gast breath, spirit, soul; akin to OS. g spirit, soul, D. geest, G. geist, and prob. to E. gaze, ghastly.]
- stark adv.
- Wholly; entirely; absolutely; quite; as, stark mind.
- screaming a.
- Uttering screams; shrieking.
- reap n.
- A bundle of grain; a handful of grain laid down by the reaper as it is cut. Wright. [Cf. AS. rip harvest. See Reap, v.]
- relentless a.
- Unmoved by appeals for sympathy or forgiveness; insensible to the distresses of others; destitute of tenderness; unrelenting; unyielding; unpitying; as, a prey to relentless despotism.
- hellenic a.
- Of or pertaining to the Hellenes, or inhabitants of Greece; Greek; Grecian.
- bacchante n.
- A priestess of Bacchus.
- wakening n.
- The act of one who wakens; esp., the act of ceasing to sleep; an awakening.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Scissors-grinder is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Congo, and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #1021; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Vachel Lindsay, The Scissors-grinder, in The Congo and Other Poems (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1021, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/lindsay-congo/the-scissors-grinder.html, id L00994.
Form and metre
The Scissors-grinder is 60 lines in 8 stanzas. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 6.9 syllables. 48% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in common measure.
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 -A-A-B-B-C-C wheel · shearsA · streets · earsA · youth · aroundB · sure · groundB · me · viewC · eyes · knewC
- 2 -A-A-B-B-C-C-D-D-E-E-F-F wheel · godA · fire · sodA · stars · goB · heaven · froB · friend · comesC · chiefs · drumsC · seen · roundD · again · groundD · plague · byE · edge · skyE · here · shameF · old · flameF
- 3 -A-A spoke · viewA · bridge · jewA
- 4 -A-A shawl · dimA · room · primA
- 5 -A-A hair · faceA · moods · placeA
- 6 -A-A west · lateA · stars · fateA
- 7 -A-A again · cheerA · made · yearA
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 common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| The old man had his box and wheel | 8 | ········ |
| For grinding knives and shears. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| No doubt his bell in village streets | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Was joy to children's ears. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And I bethought me of my youth | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| When such men came around, | 6 | ······ |
| And times I asked them in, quite sure | 8 | ········ |
| The scissors should be ground. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| The old man turned and spoke to me, | 8 | ········ |
| His face at last in view. | 6 | ······ |
| And then I thought those curious eyes | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Were eyes that once I knew. | 6 | ······ |
| "The moon is but an emery-wheel | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To whet the sword of God," | 6 | ······ |
| He said. "And here beside my fire | 8 | ····˘/·/ |
| I stretch upon the sod | 6 | ······ |
| Each night, and dream, and watch the stars | 8 | ········ |
| And watch the ghost-clouds go. | 6 | ······ |
| And see that sword of God in Heaven | 8 | ·······/ |
| A-waving to and fro. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I see that sword each century, friend. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| It means the world-war comes | 6 | ······ |
| With all its bloody, wicked chiefs | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And hate-inflaming drums. | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Men talk of peace, but I have seen | 8 | ········ |
| That emery-wheel turn round. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| The voice of Abel cries again | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| To God from out the ground. | 6 | ······ |
| The ditches must flow red, the plague | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Go stark and screaming by | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Each time that sword of God takes edge | 8 | ········ |
| Within the midnight sky. | 6 | ···/·· |
| And those that scorned their brothers here | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And sowed a wind of shame | 6 | ······ |
| Will reap the whirlwind as of old | 8 | ···/···· |
| And face relentless flame." | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| And thus the scissors-grinder spoke, | 7 | ···/˘/· |
| His face at last in view. | 6 | ······ |
| And there beside the railroad bridge | 8 | ··˘/·/·· |
| I saw the wandering Jew. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| My lady in her white silk shawl | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Is like a lily dim, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Within the twilight of the room | 8 | ···/···· |
| Enthroned and kind and prim. | 6 | ······ |
| My lady! Pale gold is her hair. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Until she smiles her face | 6 | ······ |
| Is pale with far Hellenic moods, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| With thoughts that find no place | 6 | ······ |
| In our harsh village of the West | 8 | ·/·/˘··· |
| Wherein she lives of late, | 6 | ······ |
| She's distant as far-hidden stars, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And cold--(almost!)--as fate. | 6 | ··/··· |
| But when she smiles she's here again | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Rosy with comrade-cheer, | 6 | /˘·/·· |
| A Puritan Bacchante made | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| To laugh around the year. | 6 | ······ |
| The merry gentle moon herself, | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Heart-stirring too, like her, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Wakening wild and innocent love | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| In every worshipper. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
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.