God's-Acre
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which callsThe burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just;It consecrates each grave within its walls,And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
God's-Acre! Yes, that blessed name impartsComfort to those, who in the grave have sownThe seed that they had garnered in their hearts,Their bread of life, alas! no more their own.
Into its furrows shall we all be cast,In the sure faith, that we shall rise againAt the great harvest, when the archangel's blastShall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain.
Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom,In the fair gardens of that second birth;And each bright blossom mingle its perfumeWith that of flowers, which never bloomed on earth.
With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,And spread the furrow for the seed we sow;This is the field and Acre of our God,This is the place where human harvests grow!
Words in this poem
- acre n.
- Any field of arable or pasture land. [OE. aker, AS. æcer; akin to OS. accar, OHG. achar, Ger. acker, Icel. akr, Sw. åker, Dan. ager, Goth. akrs, L. ager, Gr. ajra. *2, 206.]
- benison n.
- Blessing; beatitude; benediction. [OE. beneysun, benesoun, OF. beneï, beneïson, fr. L. benedictio, fr. benedicere to bless; bene (adv. of bonus good) + dicere to say. See Bounty, and Diction, and]
- 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,]
- ploughshare n.
- The share of a plow, or that part which cuts the slice of earth or sod at the bottom of the furrow. Plowshare bone (Anat.), the pygostyle.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
God's-Acre is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Project Gutenberg ebook #1365; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, God's-Acre, in A Psalm of Life, and Other Poems (1839–1882), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1365, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/longfellow-poems/god-s-acre.html, id L17501.
Form and metre
God's-Acre is 20 lines in 5 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 30% 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 ABAB callsA · justB · wallsA · dustB
- 2 ABAB impartsA · sownB · heartsA · ownB
- 3 ABAB castA · againB · blastA · grainB
- 4 ABAB bloomA · birthB · perfumeA · earthB
- 5 ABAB sodA · sowB · godA · growB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| It consecrates each grave within its walls, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. | 11 | ···/˘˘··/˘· |
| God's-Acre! Yes, that blessed name imparts | 10 | ·/˘···˘·˘/ |
| Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown | 10 | /˘········ |
| The seed that they had garnered in their hearts, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Their bread of life, alas! no more their own. | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| Into its furrows shall we all be cast, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| In the sure faith, that we shall rise again | 10 | ········˘/ |
| At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast | 11 | ···/˘···/˘· |
| Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. | 10 | ·/········ |
| Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| In the fair gardens of that second birth; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| And each bright blossom mingle its perfume | 10 | ···/˘/˘·˘/ |
| With that of flowers, which never bloomed on earth. | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And spread the furrow for the seed we sow; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| This is the field and Acre of our God, | 10 | ·····/˘·/· |
| This is the place where human harvests grow! | 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.