Elsa Wertman
I was a peasant girl from Germany,Blue-eyed, rosy, happy and strong.And the first place I worked was at Thomas Greene’s.On a summer’s day when she was awayHe stole into the kitchen and took meRight in his arms and kissed me on my throat,I turning my head. Then neither of usSeemed to know what happened.And I cried for what would become of me.And cried and cried as my secret began to show.One day Mrs. Greene said she understood,And would make no trouble for me,And, being childless, would adopt it.(He had given her a farm to be still.)So she hid in the house and sent out rumors,As if it were going to happen to her.And all went well and the child was born—They were so kind to me.Later I married Gus Wertman, and years passed.But—at political rallies when sitters-by thought I was cryingAt the eloquence of Hamilton Greene—That was not it. No! I wanted to say:That’s my son!That’s my son.
Words in this poem
- stole n.
- A long, loose garment reaching to the feet. [AS. stole, L. stola, Gr. stall. See Stall.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Elsa Wertman 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, Elsa Wertman, in Spoon River Anthology (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1280, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/masters-spoon-river/elsa-wertman.html, id L07838.
Form and metre
Elsa Wertman is 24 lines in a single stanza. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 74%). 86% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.3 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 17% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ---AB---B--B-----B---ACC germany · strong · greene's · awayA · meB · throat · us · happened · meB · show · understood · meB · it · still · rumors · her · born · meB · passed · crying · greene · sayA · sonC · sonC
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I was a peasant girl from Germany, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| Blue-eyed, rosy, happy and strong. | 8 | ··/˘/˘·· |
| And the first place I worked was at Thomas Greene’s. | 11 | ········/˘· |
| On a summer’s day when she was away | 10 | ··/˘····˘/ |
| He stole into the kitchen and took me | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Right in his arms and kissed me on my throat, | 10 | ·········· |
| I turning my head. Then neither of us | 10 | ·/˘···/˘·· |
| Seemed to know what happened. | 6 | ····/˘ |
| And I cried for what would become of me. | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| And cried and cried as my secret began to show. | 12 | ······/˘˘/·· |
| One day Mrs. Greene said she understood, | 10 | ··/˘····˘/ |
| And would make no trouble for me, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| And, being childless, would adopt it. | 9 | ·/˘/˘·˘/· |
| (He had given her a farm to be still.) | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| So she hid in the house and sent out rumors, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| As if it were going to happen to her. | 10 | ····/·/˘·· |
| And all went well and the child was born— | 9 | ········· |
| They were so kind to me. | 6 | ······ |
| Later I married Gus Wertman, and years passed. | 11 | /˘·/˘·/˘··· |
| But—at political rallies when sitters-by thought I was crying | 16 | ··˘/˘/˘·/˘····/˘ |
| At the eloquence of Hamilton Greene— | 10 | ··/˘˘·/˘˘· |
| That was not it. No! I wanted to say: | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| That’s my son! | 3 | ··· |
| That’s my son. | 3 | ··· |
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.