Fame
Sometimes in the over-heated house, but not for long,Smirking and speaking rather loud,I see myself among the crowd,Where no one fits the singer to his song,Or sifts the unpainted from the painted facesOf the people who are always on my stair;They were not with me when I walked in heavenly places;But could I spareIn the blind Earth’s great silences and spaces,The din, the scuffle, the long stareIf I went back and it was not there?Back to the old known things that are the new,The folded glory of the gorse, the sweet-briar air,To the larks that cannot praise us, knowing nothing of what we doAnd the divine, wise trees that do not careYet, to leave Fame, still with such eyes and that bright hair!God! If I might! And before I go henceTake in her steadTo our tossed bed,One little dream, no matter how small, how wild.Just now, I think I found it in a field, under a fence--A frail, dead, new-born lamb, ghostly and pitiful and white.A blot upon the night,The moon’s dropped child!
Words in this poem
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- gorse n.
- Furze. See Furze. [OE. & AS. gorst; perh. akin to E. grow, grass.]
- ghostly a.
- Relating to the soul; not carnal or secular; spiritual; as, a ghostly confessor. [OE. gastlich, gostlich, AS. gastlic. See Ghost.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Fame is in the public domain. This text is taken from The farmer's bride, Project Gutenberg ebook #71305; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Charlotte Mew, Fame, in The Farmer's Bride (1916), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #71305, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/mew-farmers-bride/fame.html, id L02455.
Form and metre
Fame is 24 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABBACDCDCDDEDEDDFGGHFIIH. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter. 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.6 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 29% 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 ABBACDCDCDDEDEDDFGGHFIIH longA · loudB · crowdB · songA · facesC · stairD · placesC · spareD · spacesC · stareD · thereD · newE · airD · doE · careD · hairD · henceF · steadG · bedG · wildH · fenceF · whiteI · nightI · childH
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Sometimes in the over-heated house, but not for long, | 12 | ˘/···/˘····· |
| Smirking and speaking rather loud, | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘· |
| I see myself among the crowd, | 8 | ···/···· |
| Where no one fits the singer to his song, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Or sifts the unpainted from the painted faces | 12 | ···˘/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Of the people who are always on my stair; | 11 | ··/˘··/···· |
| They were not with me when I walked in heavenly places; | 13 | ·········/˘/˘ |
| But could I spare | 4 | ···· |
| In the blind Earth’s great silences and spaces, | 10 | ·····/˘·/˘ |
| The din, the scuffle, the long stare | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| If I went back and it was not there? | 9 | ········· |
| Back to the old known things that are the new, | 10 | ·········· |
| The folded glory of the gorse, the sweet-briar air, | 12 | ·/˘/˘·····/· |
| To the larks that cannot praise us, knowing nothing of what we do | 15 | ····˘/··//˘···· |
| And the divine, wise trees that do not care | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| Yet, to leave Fame, still with such eyes and that bright hair! | 12 | ············ |
| God! If I might! And before I go hence | 10 | ·········· |
| Take in her stead | 4 | ···· |
| To our tossed bed, | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| One little dream, no matter how small, how wild. | 11 | ·/˘··/˘···· |
| Just now, I think I found it in a field, under a fence-- | 14 | ·············· |
| A frail, dead, new-born lamb, ghostly and pitiful and white. | 13 | ······/˘·/˘·· |
| A blot upon the night, | 6 | ······ |
| The moon’s dropped child! | 4 | ···· |
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.