Harmon Whitney
Out of the lights and roar of cities,Drifting down like a spark in Spoon River,Burnt out with the fire of drink, and broken,The paramour of a woman I took in self-contempt,But to hide a wounded pride as well.To be judged and loathed by a village of little minds—I, gifted with tongues and wisdom,Sunk here to the dust of the justice court,A picker of rags in the rubbage of spites and wrongs,—I, whom fortune smiled on!I in a village,Spouting to gaping yokels pages of verse,Out of the lore of golden years,Or raising a laugh with a flash of filthy witWhen they bought the drinks to kindle my dying mind.To be judged by you,The soul of me hidden from you,With its wound gangrenedBy love for a wife who made the wound,With her cold white bosom, treasonous, pure and hard,Relentless to the last, when the touch of her hand,At any time, might have cured me of the typhus,Caught in the jungle of life where many are lost.And only to think that my soul could not react,Like Byron’s did, in song, in something noble,But turned on itself like a tortured snake—judge me this way,O world.
Words in this poem
- picker n.
- One who, or that which, picks, in any sense, -- as, one who uses a pick; one who gathers; a thief; a pick; a pickax; as, a cotton picker. [From Pick.]
- relentless a.
- Unmoved by appeals for sympathy or forgiveness; insensible to the distresses of others; destitute of tenderness; unrelenting; unyielding; unpitying; as, a prey to relentless despotism.
- jungle n.
- A dense growth of brushwood, grasses, reeds, vines, etc.; an almost impenetrable thicket of trees, canes, and reedy vegetation, as in India, Africa, Australia, and Brazil. [Hind. jangal desert, forest, jungle; Skr. ja desert.]
- react v. t.
- To act or perform a second time; to do over again; as, to react a play; the same scenes were reacted at Rome.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Harmon Whitney 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, Harmon Whitney, in Spoon River Anthology (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1280, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/masters-spoon-river/harmon-whitney.html, id L07863.
Form and metre
Harmon Whitney is 27 lines in a single stanza. 84% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.8 syllables. 8 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 7% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 --------------ABBAA-A------ cities · river · broken · contempt · well · minds · wisdom · court · wrongs · on · village · verse · years · wit · mindA · youB · youB · gangrenedA · woundA · hard · handA · typhus · lost · react · noble · way · world
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Out of the lights and roar of cities, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Drifting down like a spark in Spoon River, | 10 | /˘······/˘ |
| Burnt out with the fire of drink, and broken, | 11 | ····/˘···/˘ |
| The paramour of a woman I took in self-contempt, | 14 | ·/˘˘··/˘····˘/ |
| But to hide a wounded pride as well. | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| To be judged and loathed by a village of little minds— | 13 | ·······/˘·/˘· |
| I, gifted with tongues and wisdom, | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| Sunk here to the dust of the justice court, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| A picker of rags in the rubbage of spites and wrongs,— | 13 | ·/˘····/˘···· |
| I, whom fortune smiled on! | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| I in a village, | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Spouting to gaping yokels pages of verse, | 11 | /˘·/˘/˘/˘·· |
| Out of the lore of golden years, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Or raising a laugh with a flash of filthy wit | 12 | ·/˘······/˘· |
| When they bought the drinks to kindle my dying mind. | 12 | ······/˘·/˘· |
| To be judged by you, | 5 | ····· |
| The soul of me hidden from you, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| With its wound gangrened | 5 | ···/˘ |
| By love for a wife who made the wound, | 9 | ········· |
| With her cold white bosom, treasonous, pure and hard, | 12 | ····/˘/˘˘··· |
| Relentless to the last, when the touch of her hand, | 12 | ˘/˘········· |
| At any time, might have cured me of the typhus, | 12 | ·/˘·······/˘ |
| Caught in the jungle of life where many are lost. | 12 | ···/˘···/˘·· |
| And only to think that my soul could not react, | 12 | ·/˘·······˘/ |
| Like Byron’s did, in song, in something noble, | 11 | ·/˘····/˘/˘ |
| But turned on itself like a tortured snake—judge me this way, | 14 | ···˘/··/˘····· |
| O world. | 2 | ·· |
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.