The Wounded Bird
In the wide bedUnder the green embroidered quiltWith flowers and leaves always in soft motionShe is like a wounded bird resting on a pool.
The hunter threw his dartAnd hit her breast,—Hit her but did not kill.“O my wings, lift me—lift me!I am not dreadfully hurt!”Down she dropped and was still.
Kind people come to the edge of the pool with baskets.“Of course what the poor bird wants is plenty of food!”Their bags and pockets are crammed almost to burstingWith dinner scrapings and scraps from the servants’ lunch.Oh! how pleased they are to be really giving!“In the past, you know you know, you were always so fly-away.So seldom came to the window-sill, so rarelyShared the delicious crumbs thrown into the yard.Here is a delicate fragment and here a tit-bitAs good as new. And here’s a morsel of relishAnd cake and bread and bread and bread and bread.”
At night, in the wide bedWith the leaves and flowersGently weaving in the darkness,She is like a wounded bird at rest on a pool.Timidly, timidly she lifts her head from her wingIn the sky there are two starsFloating, shining ...O waters—do not cover me!I would look long and long at those beautiful stars!O my wings—lift me—lift me!I am not so dreadfully hurt ...
Words in this poem
- dreadfully adv.
- In a dreadful manner; terribly.
- lunch n.
- A luncheon; specifically, a light repast between breakfast and dinner. [Of uncertain etymol. Cf. Prov. Eng. nunc a lump.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Wounded Bird is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #59276; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Katherine Mansfield, The Wounded Bird, in Poems (1923), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #59276, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/mansfield-poems/the-wounded-bird.html, id L27614.
Form and metre
The Wounded Bird is 32 lines in 4 stanzas.
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.
- 2 --A--A dart · breast · killA · me · hurt · stillA
- 4 ----ABACBC- bed · flowers · darkness · pool · wingA · starsB · shiningA · meC · starsB · meC · hurt
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. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| In the wide bed | 4 | ···· |
| Under the green embroidered quilt | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| With flowers and leaves always in soft motion | 10 | ·/··/˘··/˘ |
| She is like a wounded bird resting on a pool. | 12 | ····/˘·/˘··· |
| The hunter threw his dart | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And hit her breast,— | 4 | ···· |
| Hit her but did not kill. | 6 | ······ |
| “O my wings, lift me—lift me! | 7 | ······· |
| I am not dreadfully hurt!” | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| Down she dropped and was still. | 7 | ···˘··· |
| Kind people come to the edge of the pool with baskets. | 13 | ·/˘········/˘ |
| “Of course what the poor bird wants is plenty of food!” | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| Their bags and pockets are crammed almost to bursting | 12 | ···/˘··/··/˘ |
| With dinner scrapings and scraps from the servants’ lunch. | 12 | ·/˘/˘····/˘· |
| Oh! how pleased they are to be really giving! | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| “In the past, you know you know, you were always so fly-away. | 15 | ·········/···˘/ |
| So seldom came to the window-sill, so rarely | 12 | ·/˘···/˘··/˘ |
| Shared the delicious crumbs thrown into the yard. | 11 | ··˘/˘······ |
| Here is a delicate fragment and here a tit-bit | 12 | ···/˘/˘····· |
| As good as new. And here’s a morsel of relish | 12 | ·······/˘·/˘ |
| And cake and bread and bread and bread and bread.” | 10 | ·········· |
| At night, in the wide bed | 6 | ······ |
| With the leaves and flowers | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Gently weaving in the darkness, | 8 | /˘/˘··/˘ |
| She is like a wounded bird at rest on a pool. | 12 | ····/˘······ |
| Timidly, timidly she lifts her head from her wing | 11 | /˘/˘······· |
| In the sky there are two stars | 7 | ······· |
| Floating, shining ... | 4 | /˘/˘ |
| O waters—do not cover me! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I would look long and long at those beautiful stars! | 11 | ········/˘· |
| O my wings—lift me—lift me! | 7 | ······· |
| I am not so dreadfully hurt ... | 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.