For Where Your Treasure Is, There Will Your Heart Be Also
The miser lay on his lonely bed;Life's candle was burning dim.His heart in an iron chest was hidUnder heaps of gold and an iron lid;And whether it were alive or deadIt never troubled him.
Slowly out of his body he crept.He said, "I am just the same!Only I want my heart in my breast;I will go and fetch it out of my chest!"Through the dark a darker shadow he leapt,Saying "Hell is a fabled flame!"
He opened the lid. Oh, Hell's own night!His ghost-eyes saw no gold!--Empty and swept! Not a gleam was there!In goes his hand, but the chest is bare!Ghost-fingers, aha! have only mightTo close, not to clasp and hold!
But his heart he saw, and he made a clutchAt the fungous puff-ball of sin:Eaten with moths, and fretted with rust,He grasped a handful of rotten dust,And shrieked, as ghosts may, at the crumbling touch,But hid it his breast within.
And some there are who see him sitUnder the church, apart,Counting out coins and coins of goldHeap by heap on the dank death-mould:Alas poor ghost and his sore lack of wit--They breed in the dust of his heart!
Another miser has now his chest,And it hoards wealth more and more;Like ferrets his hands go in and out,Burrowing, tossing the gold about--Nor heed the heart that, gone from his breast,Is the cold heap's bloodless core.
Now wherein differ old ghosts that sitCounting ghost-coins all dayFrom the man who clings with spirit proneTo whatever can never be his own?Who will leave the world with not one whitBut a heart all eaten away?
Words in this poem
- 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.]
- fungous a.
- Of the nature of fungi; spongy. [L. fungosus: cf. F. fungueux.]
- handful n.
- As much as the hand will grasp or contain. [AS. handfull.]
- dank n.
- Moisture; humidity; water.
- mould n.
- Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- whit n.
- The smallest part or particle imaginable; a bit; a jot; an iota; -- generally used in an adverbial phrase in a negative sentence. [OE. wight, wiht, AS. wiht a creature, a thing. See Wight, and cf. Aught, Naught.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
For Where Your Treasure Is, There Will Your Heart Be Also is in the public domain. This text is taken from The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #9984; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: George MacDonald, For Where Your Treasure Is, There Will Your Heart Be Also, in A Microcosm in Terza Rima, and Other Poems (1893), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9984, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/macdonald-poems/for-where-your-treasure-is-there-will-your-heart-be-also.html, id L22495.
Form and metre
For Where Your Treasure Is, There Will Your Heart Be Also is 42 lines in 7 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABCCAB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 78%).
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 ABCCAB bedA · dimB · hidC · lidC · deadA · himB
- 2 ABCCAB creptA · sameB · breastC · chestC · leaptA · flameB
- 3 ABCCAB nightA · goldB · thereC · bareC · mightA · holdB
- 4 ABCCAB clutchA · sinB · rustC · dustC · touchA · withinB
- 5 ABCCAB sitA · apartB · goldC · mouldC · witA · heartB
- 6 ABCCAB chestA · moreB · outC · aboutC · breastA · coreB
- 7 ABCCAB sitA · dayB · proneC · ownC · whitA · awayB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| The miser lay on his lonely bed; | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| Life's candle was burning dim. | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| His heart in an iron chest was hid | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Under heaps of gold and an iron lid; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And whether it were alive or dead | 9 | ·····˘/·· |
| It never troubled him. | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| Slowly out of his body he crept. | 9 | /˘···/˘·· |
| He said, "I am just the same! | 7 | ······· |
| Only I want my heart in my breast; | 9 | /˘······· |
| I will go and fetch it out of my chest!" | 10 | ·········· |
| Through the dark a darker shadow he leapt, | 10 | ····/˘/··· |
| Saying "Hell is a fabled flame!" | 9 | /˘···/˘˘· |
| He opened the lid. Oh, Hell's own night! | 10 | ·/˘˘······ |
| His ghost-eyes saw no gold!-- | 6 | ······ |
| Empty and swept! Not a gleam was there! | 9 | /˘······· |
| In goes his hand, but the chest is bare! | 9 | ········· |
| Ghost-fingers, aha! have only might | 9 | ·/˘·/·/˘· |
| To close, not to clasp and hold! | 7 | ······· |
| But his heart he saw, and he made a clutch | 10 | ·········· |
| At the fungous puff-ball of sin: | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Eaten with moths, and fretted with rust, | 9 | /˘···/˘·· |
| He grasped a handful of rotten dust, | 10 | ··˘·/··/˘· |
| And shrieked, as ghosts may, at the crumbling touch, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| But hid it his breast within. | 7 | ······· |
| And some there are who see him sit | 8 | ········ |
| Under the church, apart, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Counting out coins and coins of gold | 8 | /˘······ |
| Heap by heap on the dank death-mould: | 8 | ········ |
| Alas poor ghost and his sore lack of wit-- | 10 | ˘/········ |
| They breed in the dust of his heart! | 8 | ········ |
| Another miser has now his chest, | 9 | ˘/˘/˘···· |
| And it hoards wealth more and more; | 7 | ······· |
| Like ferrets his hands go in and out, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Burrowing, tossing the gold about-- | 9 | /˘˘/˘···· |
| Nor heed the heart that, gone from his breast, | 9 | ········· |
| Is the cold heap's bloodless core. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Now wherein differ old ghosts that sit | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Counting ghost-coins all day | 6 | /˘···· |
| From the man who clings with spirit prone | 9 | ······/˘· |
| To whatever can never be his own? | 10 | ··/˘·/˘··· |
| Who will leave the world with not one whit | 9 | ········· |
| But a heart all eaten away? | 8 | ····/˘˘/ |
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