The Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Woman
Before I see another day,Oh let my body die away!In sleep I heard the northern gleams;The stars they were among my dreams;In sleep did I behold the skies,I saw the crackling flashes drive;And yet they are upon my eyes,And yet I am alive.Before I see another day,Oh let my body die away!
My fire is dead: it knew no pain;Yet is it dead, and I remain.All stiff with ice the ashes lie;And they are dead, and I will die.When I was well, I wished to live,For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;But they to me no joy can give,No pleasure now, and no desire.Then here contented will I lie;Alone I cannot fear to die.
Alas! you might have dragged me onAnother day, a single one!Too soon despair o’er me prevailed;Too soon my heartless spirit failed;When you were gone my limbs were stronger,And Oh how grievously I rue,That, afterwards, a little longer,My friends, I did not follow you!For strong and without pain I lay,My friends, when you were gone away.
My child! they gave thee to another,A woman who was not thy mother.When from my arms my babe they took,On me how strangely did he look!Through his whole body something ran,A most strange something did I see;--As if he strove to be a man,That he might pull the sledge for me.And then he stretched his arms, how wild!Oh mercy! like a little child.
My little joy! my little pride!In two days more I must have died.Then do not weep and grieve for me;I feel I must have died with thee.Oh wind that o’er my head art flying,The way my friends their course did bend,I should not feel the pain of dying,Could I with thee a message send.Too soon, my friends, you went away;For I had many things to say.
I’ll follow you across the snow,You travel heavily and slow:In spite of all my weary pain,I’ll look upon your tents again.My fire is dead, and snowy whiteThe water which beside it stood;The wolf has come to me to-night,And he has stolen away my food.For ever left alone am I,Then wherefore should I fear to die?
My journey will be shortly run,I shall not see another sun,I cannot lift my limbs to knowIf they have any life or no.My poor forsaken child! if IFor once could have thee close to me,With happy heart I then would die,And my last thoughts would happy be,I feel my body die away,I shall not see another day.
Words in this poem
- heartless a.
- Without a heart.
- babe n.
- An infant; a young child of either sex; a baby. [Cf. Ir. bab, baban, W. baban, maban.]
- strangely adv.
- As something foreign, or not one's own; in a manner adapted to something foreign and strange.
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- snowy a.
- White like snow.
- wherefore adv.
- For which reason; so; -- used relatively. [Where + for.]
- shortly adv.
- In a short or brief time or manner; soon; quickly. [AS. sceortlice.]
- 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,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Woman is in the public domain. This text is taken from Lyrical Ballads, With a Few Other Poems (1798), Project Gutenberg ebook #9622; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Wordsworth, The Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Woman, in Lyrical Ballads (1798), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9622, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/lyrical-ballads/the-complaint-of-a-forsaken-indian-woman.html, id L02865.
Form and metre
The Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Woman is 70 lines in 7 stanzas of 10 lines each. It is in rhyming couplets, 57% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 8 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 6% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, 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 AABBCDCDAA dayA · awayA · gleamsB · dreamsB · skiesC · driveD · eyesC · aliveD · dayA · awayA
- 2 AABBCDCDBB painA · remainA · lieB · dieB · liveC · fireD · giveC · desireD · lieB · dieB
- 3 --AABCBCDD on · one · prevailedA · failedA · strongerB · rueC · longerB · youC · layD · awayD
- 4 AABBCDCDEE anotherA · motherA · tookB · lookB · ranC · seeD · manC · meD · wildE · childE
- 5 AABBCDCDEE prideA · diedA · meB · theeB · flyingC · bendD · dyingC · sendD · awayE · sayE
- 6 AABBC-C-DD snowA · slowA · painB · againB · whiteC · stood · nightC · food · iD · dieD
- 7 AABBCDCDEE runA · sunA · knowB · noB · iC · meD · dieC · beD · awayE · dayE
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Before I see another day, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Oh let my body die away! | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| In sleep I heard the northern gleams; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The stars they were among my dreams; | 8 | ········ |
| In sleep did I behold the skies, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| I saw the crackling flashes drive; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And yet they are upon my eyes, | 8 | ········ |
| And yet I am alive. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Before I see another day, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Oh let my body die away! | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| My fire is dead: it knew no pain; | 8 | ·/······ |
| Yet is it dead, and I remain. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| All stiff with ice the ashes lie; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And they are dead, and I will die. | 8 | ········ |
| When I was well, I wished to live, | 8 | ········ |
| For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire; | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| But they to me no joy can give, | 8 | ········ |
| No pleasure now, and no desire. | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| Then here contented will I lie; | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Alone I cannot fear to die. | 8 | ˘/·/˘··· |
| Alas! you might have dragged me on | 8 | ˘/······ |
| Another day, a single one! | 8 | ˘/˘··/˘· |
| Too soon despair o’er me prevailed; | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| Too soon my heartless spirit failed; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| When you were gone my limbs were stronger, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And Oh how grievously I rue, | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| That, afterwards, a little longer, | 9 | ·/˘˘·/˘/˘ |
| My friends, I did not follow you! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| For strong and without pain I lay, | 8 | ········ |
| My friends, when you were gone away. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| My child! they gave thee to another, | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| A woman who was not thy mother. | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| When from my arms my babe they took, | 8 | ········ |
| On me how strangely did he look! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Through his whole body something ran, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| A most strange something did I see; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| --As if he strove to be a man, | 8 | ········ |
| That he might pull the sledge for me. | 8 | ········ |
| And then he stretched his arms, how wild! | 8 | ········ |
| Oh mercy! like a little child. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| My little joy! my little pride! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| In two days more I must have died. | 8 | ········ |
| Then do not weep and grieve for me; | 8 | ········ |
| I feel I must have died with thee. | 8 | ········ |
| Oh wind that o’er my head art flying, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| The way my friends their course did bend, | 8 | ········ |
| I should not feel the pain of dying, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Could I with thee a message send. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Too soon, my friends, you went away; | 8 | ······˘/ |
| For I had many things to say. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I’ll follow you across the snow, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| You travel heavily and slow: | 8 | ·/˘/˘˘·· |
| In spite of all my weary pain, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I’ll look upon your tents again. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| My fire is dead, and snowy white | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| The water which beside it stood; | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| The wolf has come to me to-night, | 8 | ········ |
| And he has stolen away my food. | 9 | ···/˘˘/·· |
| For ever left alone am I, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| Then wherefore should I fear to die? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| My journey will be shortly run, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I shall not see another sun, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| I cannot lift my limbs to know | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| If they have any life or no. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| My poor forsaken child! if I | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| For once could have thee close to me, | 8 | ········ |
| With happy heart I then would die, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And my last thoughts would happy be, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I feel my body die away, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| I shall not see another day. | 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.