Isaiah Beethoven
They told me I had three months to live,So I crept to Bernadotte,And sat by the mill for hours and hoursWhere the gathered waters deeply movingSeemed not to move:O world, that’s you!You are but a widened place in the riverWhere Life looks down and we rejoice for herMirrored in us, and so we dreamAnd turn away, but when againWe look for the face, behold the low-landsAnd blasted cotton-wood trees where we emptyInto the larger stream!But here by the mill the castled cloudsMocked themselves in the dizzy water;And over its agate floor at nightThe flame of the moon ran under my eyesAmid a forest stillness brokenBy a flute in a hut on the hill.At last when I came to lie in bedWeak and in pain, with the dreams about me,The soul of the river had entered my soul,And the gathered power of my soul was movingSo swiftly it seemed to be at restUnder cities of cloud and underSpheres of silver and changing worlds—Until I saw a flash of trumpetsAbove the battlements over Time.
Words in this poem
- blasted a.
- Blighted; withered.
- castled a.
- Having a castle or castles; supporting a castle; as, a castled height or crag.
- amid prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
- stillness n.
- The quality or state of being still; quietness; silence; calmness; inactivity.
- trumpets n.
- A plant (Sarracenia flava) with long, hollow leaves.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Isaiah Beethoven 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, Isaiah Beethoven, in Spoon River Anthology (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1280, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/masters-spoon-river/isaiah-beethoven.html, id L07965.
Form and metre
Isaiah Beethoven is 28 lines in a single verse paragraph. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 79%). 90% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.9 syllables. 8 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 61% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter, other poems in blank verse.
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----B---B---------A----- live · bernadotte · hours · movingA · move · you · river · her · dreamB · again · lands · empty · streamB · clouds · water · night · eyes · broken · hill · bed · me · soul · movingA · rest · under · worlds · trumpets · time
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 |
|---|---|---|
| They told me I had three months to live, | 9 | ········· |
| So I crept to Bernadotte, | 7 | ······· |
| And sat by the mill for hours and hours | 11 | ······/˘·/˘ |
| Where the gathered waters deeply moving | 10 | ··/˘/˘/˘/˘ |
| Seemed not to move: | 4 | ···· |
| O world, that’s you! | 4 | ···· |
| You are but a widened place in the river | 11 | ····/˘···/˘ |
| Where Life looks down and we rejoice for her | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| Mirrored in us, and so we dream | 8 | /˘······ |
| And turn away, but when again | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| We look for the face, behold the low-lands | 10 | ·····˘/··· |
| And blasted cotton-wood trees where we empty | 11 | ·/˘/˘····/˘ |
| Into the larger stream! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| But here by the mill the castled clouds | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Mocked themselves in the dizzy water; | 9 | ·˘/··/˘/˘ |
| And over its agate floor at night | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| The flame of the moon ran under my eyes | 10 | ·········· |
| Amid a forest stillness broken | 9 | ˘/·/˘/˘/˘ |
| By a flute in a hut on the hill. | 9 | ········· |
| At last when I came to lie in bed | 9 | ········· |
| Weak and in pain, with the dreams about me, | 10 | ·········· |
| The soul of the river had entered my soul, | 11 | ····/˘·/˘·· |
| And the gathered power of my soul was moving | 12 | ··/˘/˘····/˘ |
| So swiftly it seemed to be at rest | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Under cities of cloud and under | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Spheres of silver and changing worlds— | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| Until I saw a flash of trumpets | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Above the battlements over Time. | 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.