Edith Conant
We stand about this place—we, the memories;And shade our eyes because we dread to read:“June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days.”And all things are changed.And we—we, the memories, stand here for ourselves alone,For no eye marks us, or would know why we are here.Your husband is dead, your sister lives far away,Your father is bent with age;He has forgotten you, he scarcely leaves the houseAny more. No one remembers your exquisite face,Your lyric voice!How you sang, even on the morning you were stricken,With piercing sweetness, with thrilling sorrow,Before the advent of the child which died with you.It is all forgotten, save by us, the memories,Who are forgotten by the world.All is changed, save the river and the hill—Even they are changed.Only the burning sun and the quiet stars are the same.And we—we, the memories, stand here in awe,Our eyes closed with the weariness of tears—In immeasurable weariness
Words in this poem
- stricken p. p.
- Struck; smitten; wounded; as, the stricken deer.
- thrilling a.
- Causing a thrill; causing tremulous excitement; deeply moving; as, a thrilling romance.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Edith Conant is in the public domain. This text is taken from Spoon River Anthology, Project Gutenberg ebook #1280; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Edgar Lee Masters, Edith Conant, in Spoon River Anthology (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1280, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/masters-spoon-river/edith-conant.html, id L07908.
Form and metre
Edith Conant is 22 lines in a single stanza. The metre is trochaic hexameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 72%). 85% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.2 syllables. 5 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 9% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic hexameter.
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 A-AB----------A--B---- memoriesA · read · daysA · changedB · alone · here · away · age · house · face · voice · stricken · sorrow · you · memoriesA · world · hill · changedB · same · awe · tears · weariness
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 trochaic hexameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| We stand about this place—we, the memories; | 11 | ········/˘˘ |
| And shade our eyes because we dread to read: | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| “June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days.” | 7 | ·//···· |
| And all things are changed. | 5 | ····· |
| And we—we, the memories, stand here for ourselves alone, | 15 | ····/˘˘···˘˘/˘/ |
| For no eye marks us, or would know why we are here. | 12 | ············ |
| Your husband is dead, your sister lives far away, | 12 | ·/˘···/˘··˘/ |
| Your father is bent with age; | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| He has forgotten you, he scarcely leaves the house | 12 | ··˘/˘··/˘··· |
| Any more. No one remembers your exquisite face, | 13 | /˘···˘/˘·/˘˘· |
| Your lyric voice! | 4 | ·/˘· |
| How you sang, even on the morning you were stricken, | 13 | ···/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| With piercing sweetness, with thrilling sorrow, | 10 | ·/˘/˘·/˘/˘ |
| Before the advent of the child which died with you. | 12 | ···/········ |
| It is all forgotten, save by us, the memories, | 13 | ···˘/˘····/˘˘ |
| Who are forgotten by the world. | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| All is changed, save the river and the hill— | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Even they are changed. | 5 | /˘··· |
| Only the burning sun and the quiet stars are the same. | 14 | /˘·/˘···/˘···· |
| And we—we, the memories, stand here in awe, | 11 | ····/˘˘···· |
| Our eyes closed with the weariness of tears— | 11 | /˘····/˘˘·· |
| In immeasurable weariness | 9 | ·˘/˘·˘/˘˘ |
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.