After Hearing a Waltz by Bartók
But why did I kill him? Why? Why?In the small, gilded room, near the stair?My ears rack and throb with his cry,And his eyes goggle under his hair,As my fingers sink into the fairWhite skin of his throat. It was I!
I killed him! My God! Don't you hear?I shook him until his red tongueHung flapping out through the black, queer,Swollen lines of his lips. And I clungWith my nails drawing blood, while I flungThe loose, heavy body in fear.
Fear lest he should still not be dead.I was drunk with the lust of his life.The blood-drops oozed slow from his headAnd dabbled a chair. And our strifeLasted one reeling second, his knifeLay and winked in the lights overhead.
And the waltz from the ballroom I heard,When I called him a low, sneaking cur.And the wail of the violins stirredMy brute anger with visions of her.As I throttled his windpipe, the purrOf his breath with the waltz became blurred.
I have ridden ten miles through the dark,With that music, an infernal din,Pounding rhythmic inside me. Just Hark!One! Two! Three! And my fingers sink inTo his flesh when the violins, thinAnd straining with passion, grow stark.
One! Two! Three! Oh, the horror of sound!While she danced I was crushing his throat.He had tasted the joy of her, woundRound her body, and I heard him gloatOn the favour. That instant I smote.One! Two! Three! How the dancers swirl round!
He is here in the room, in my arm,His limp body hangs on the spinOf the waltz we are dancing, a swarmOf blood-drops is hemming us in!Round and round! One! Two! Three! And his sinIs red like his tongue lolling warm.
One! Two! Three! And the drums are his knell.He is heavy, his feet beat the floorAs I drag him about in the swellOf the waltz. With a menacing roar,The trumpets crash in through the door.One! Two! Three! clangs his funeral bell.
One! Two! Three! In the chaos of spaceRolls the earth to the hideous gleeOf death! And so cramped is this place,I stifle and pant. One! Two! Three!Round and round! God! 'Tis he throttles me!He has covered my mouth with his face!
And his blood has dripped into my heart!And my heart beats and labours. One! Two!Three! His dead limbs have coiled every partOf my body in tentacles. ThroughMy ears the waltz jangles. Like glueHis dead body holds me athwart.
One! Two! Three! Give me air! Oh! My God!One! Two! Three! I am drowning in slime!One! Two! Three! And his corpse, like a clod,Beats me into a jelly! The chime,One! Two! Three! And his dead legs keep time.Air! Give me air! Air! My God!
Words in this poem 21
- throb v. i.
- To beat, or pulsate, with more than usual force or rapidity; to beat in consequence of agitation; to palpitate; -- said of the heart, pulse, etc. [OE. ; of uncertain origin; cf. Russ. trepete a trembling, and E. trepidation.]
- goggle v. i.
- To roll the eyes; to stare. [Cf. Ir. & Gael. gog a nod, slight motion.]
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- clung a.
- Wasted away; shrunken. [Prop. p. p. fr. OE. clingen to wither. See Cling, v. i.]
- lust v. i.
- To list; to like. [AS. lystan. See Lust, n., and cf. List to choose.]
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- waltz n.
- A dance performed by two persons in circular figures with a whirling motion; also, a piece of music composed in triple measure for this kind of dance. [G. walzer, from walzen to roll, revolve, dance, OHG. walzan to roll; akin to AS. wealtan. See Welter.]
- ballroom n.
- A room for balls or dancing.
- purr v. i.
- To murmur as a cat. See Pur.
- rhythmic a.
- Pertaining to, or of the nature of, rhythm DAy and night I worked my rhythmic thought. Mrs. Browning. [Gr. rhythmicus, F. rhythmique.]
- stark adv.
- Wholly; entirely; absolutely; quite; as, stark mind.
- gloat v. i.
- To look steadfastly; to gaz In vengeance gloating on another's pain. [Akin to Icel. glotta to smile scornfully, G. glotzen to gloat.]
- favour n.
- Kind regard; propitious aspect; countenance; friendly disposition; kindness; good will. [Written also favour.]
- swirl v. t.
- To whirl, or cause to whirl, as in an eddy. [Akin to Norw. svirla to whirl, freq. of sverra to whirl, Dan. svirre, G. schwirren to whiz, to buzz. *177. See Swarm, n.]
- trumpets n.
- A plant (Sarracenia flava) with long, hollow leaves.
- chaos n.
- An empty, immeasurable space; a yawning chasm. [L. chaos chaos (in senses 1 & 2), Gr. Chasm.]
- glee n.
- Music; minstrelsy; entertainment.
- pant v. i.
- To breathe quickly or in a labored manner, as after exertion or from eagerness or excitement; to respire with heaving of the breast; to gasp. [Cf. F. panteler to gasp for breath, OF. panteisier to be breathless, F. pantois out of breath; perh. akin to E. phantom, the verb prob. orig. meaning, to have t]
- corpse n.
- A human body in general, whether living or dead; -- sometimes contemptuosly. [OF. cors (sometimes written corps), F. corps, L. corpus; akin to AS. hrif womb. See Midriff, and cf. Corse, Corselet, Corps, Cuerpo.]
- clod n.
- A lump or mass, especially of earth, turf, or clay. [OE. clodde, latter form of clot. See Clot.]
- chime n.
- The harmonious sound of bells, or of musical instruments. [OE. chimbe, prop., cymbal, OF. cymbe, cymble, in a dialectic form, chymble, F. cymbale, L. cymbalum, fr. Gr. Cymbal.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
After Hearing a Waltz by Bartók is in the public domain. This text is taken from Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, Project Gutenberg ebook #1020; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Amy Lowell, After Hearing a Waltz by Bartók, in Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (1914), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1020, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/lowell-amy-sword-blades/after-hearing-a-waltz-by-bart-k.html, id L08233.
Form and metre
After Hearing a Waltz by Bartók is 66 lines in 11 stanzas of 6 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABBA, complete in 9 of its 11 stanzas. The metre is anapaestic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 90% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.9 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 35% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in anapaestic trimeter.
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 ABABBA whyA · stairB · cryA · hairB · fairB · iA
- 2 ABABBA hearA · tongueB · queerA · clungB · flungB · fearA
- 3 ABABBA deadA · lifeB · headA · strifeB · knifeB · overheadA
- 4 ABABBA heardA · curB · stirredA · herB · purrB · blurredA
- 5 ABABBA darkA · dinB · harkA · inB · thinB · starkA
- 6 ABABBA soundA · throatB · woundA · gloatB · smoteB · roundA
- 7 -ABAAB arm · spinA · swarmB · inA · sinA · warmB
- 8 ABABBA knellA · floorB · swellA · roarB · doorB · bellA
- 9 ABABBA spaceA · gleeB · placeA · threeB · meB · faceA
- 10 ABABB- heartA · twoB · partA · throughB · glueB · athwart
- 11 ABABBA godA · slimeB · clodA · chimeB · timeB · godA
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 anapaestic trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| But why did I kill him? Why? Why? | 8 | ········ |
| In the small, gilded room, near the stair? | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| My ears rack and throb with his cry, | 8 | ········ |
| And his eyes goggle under his hair, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| As my fingers sink into the fair | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| White skin of his throat. It was I! | 8 | ········ |
| I killed him! My God! Don't you hear? | 9 | ··˘······ |
| I shook him until his red tongue | 8 | ········ |
| Hung flapping out through the black, queer, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Swollen lines of his lips. And I clung | 9 | /˘······· |
| With my nails drawing blood, while I flung | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| The loose, heavy body in fear. | 8 | ··/˘/˘·· |
| Fear lest he should still not be dead. | 8 | ········ |
| I was drunk with the lust of his life. | 9 | ········· |
| The blood-drops oozed slow from his head | 9 | ····˘···· |
| And dabbled a chair. And our strife | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘· |
| Lasted one reeling second, his knife | 9 | /˘·/˘/˘·· |
| Lay and winked in the lights overhead. | 10 | ···˘···/˘/ |
| And the waltz from the ballroom I heard, | 9 | ·····/··· |
| When I called him a low, sneaking cur. | 10 | ···˘···/˘· |
| And the wail of the violins stirred | 10 | ·····˘˘/·˘ |
| My brute anger with visions of her. | 9 | ··/˘·/˘·· |
| As I throttled his windpipe, the purr | 10 | ··/˘˘·/˘·· |
| Of his breath with the waltz became blurred. | 10 | ······˘/·˘ |
| I have ridden ten miles through the dark, | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| With that music, an infernal din, | 9 | ··/˘·˘/˘· |
| Pounding rhythmic inside me. Just Hark! | 9 | /˘/˘/···· |
| One! Two! Three! And my fingers sink in | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| To his flesh when the violins, thin | 9 | ·····˘˘/· |
| And straining with passion, grow stark. | 8 | ·/˘·/˘·· |
| One! Two! Three! Oh, the horror of sound! | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| While she danced I was crushing his throat. | 10 | ···˘··/˘·· |
| He had tasted the joy of her, wound | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Round her body, and I heard him gloat | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| On the favour. That instant I smote. | 9 | ··/˘·/˘·· |
| One! Two! Three! How the dancers swirl round! | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| He is here in the room, in my arm, | 9 | ········· |
| His limp body hangs on the spin | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Of the waltz we are dancing, a swarm | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Of blood-drops is hemming us in! | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Round and round! One! Two! Three! And his sin | 9 | ········· |
| Is red like his tongue lolling warm. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| One! Two! Three! And the drums are his knell. | 9 | ········· |
| He is heavy, his feet beat the floor | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| As I drag him about in the swell | 9 | ········· |
| Of the waltz. With a menacing roar, | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| The trumpets crash in through the door. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| One! Two! Three! clangs his funeral bell. | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| One! Two! Three! In the chaos of space | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Rolls the earth to the hideous glee | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| Of death! And so cramped is this place, | 9 | ·····˘··· |
| I stifle and pant. One! Two! Three! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Round and round! God! 'Tis he throttles me! | 9 | ······/˘· |
| He has covered my mouth with his face! | 10 | ··/˘˘····· |
| And his blood has dripped into my heart! | 10 | ·····˘···· |
| And my heart beats and labours. One! Two! | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Three! His dead limbs have coiled every part | 10 | ······/˘˘· |
| Of my body in tentacles. Through | 9 | ··/˘·/˘˘· |
| My ears the waltz jangles. Like glue | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| His dead body holds me athwart. | 8 | ··/˘··˘/ |
| One! Two! Three! Give me air! Oh! My God! | 9 | ········· |
| One! Two! Three! I am drowning in slime! | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| One! Two! Three! And his corpse, like a clod, | 9 | ········· |
| Beats me into a jelly! The chime, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| One! Two! Three! And his dead legs keep time. | 9 | ········· |
| Air! Give me air! Air! My God! | 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.