Joseph Dixon
Who carved this shattered harp on my stone?I died to you, no doubt. But how many harps and pianosWired I and tightened and disentangled for you,Making them sweet again—with tuning fork or without?Oh well! A harp leaps out of the ear of a man, you say,But whence the ear that orders the length of the stringsTo a magic of numbers flying before your thoughtThrough a door that closes against your breathless wonder?Is there no Ear round the ear of a man, that it sensesThrough strings and columns of air the soul of sound?I thrill as I call it a tuning fork that catchesThe waves of mingled music and light from afar,The antennæ of Thought that listens through utmost space.Surely the concord that ruled my spirit is proofOf an Ear that tuned me, able to tune me overAnd use me again if I am worthy to use.
Words in this poem
- breathless a.
- Spent with labor or violent action; out of breath.
- afar adv.
- At, to, or from a great distance; far away; -- often used with from preceding, or off following; as, he was seen from afar; I saw him afar off. [Pref. a-.(for on or of) + far.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Joseph Dixon 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, Joseph Dixon, in Spoon River Anthology (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1280, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/masters-spoon-river/joseph-dixon.html, id L07961.
Form and metre
Joseph Dixon is 16 lines in a single verse paragraph. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic hexameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 71%). 85% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 12.6 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 44% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic 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.
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 hexameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Who carved this shattered harp on my stone? | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| I died to you, no doubt. But how many harps and pianos | 15 | ········/˘··˘/˘ |
| Wired I and tightened and disentangled for you, | 13 | /˘··/˘··˘/˘·· |
| Making them sweet again—with tuning fork or without? | 13 | /˘··˘/·/˘···· |
| Oh well! A harp leaps out of the ear of a man, you say, | 14 | ·············· |
| But whence the ear that orders the length of the strings | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| To a magic of numbers flying before your thought | 13 | ··/˘·/˘/˘···· |
| Through a door that closes against your breathless wonder? | 13 | ····/˘···/˘/˘ |
| Is there no Ear round the ear of a man, that it senses | 14 | ············/˘ |
| Through strings and columns of air the soul of sound? | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| I thrill as I call it a tuning fork that catches | 13 | ·······/˘··/˘ |
| The waves of mingled music and light from afar, | 12 | ···/˘/˘···˘/ |
| The antennæ of Thought that listens through utmost space. | 12 | ······/˘·/·· |
| Surely the concord that ruled my spirit is proof | 12 | /˘·/····/˘·· |
| Of an Ear that tuned me, able to tune me over | 13 | ······/˘····· |
| And use me again if I am worthy to use. | 12 | ···˘/···/˘·· |
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.