Exiled
Searching my heart for its true sorrow,This is the thing I find to be:That I am weary of words and people,Sick of the city, wanting the sea;
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetnessOf the strong wind and shattered spray;Wanting the loud sound and the soft soundOf the big surf that breaks all day.
Always before about my dooryard,Marking the reach of the winter sea,Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea;
Always I climbed the wave at morning,Shook the sand from my shoes at night,That now am caught beneath great buildingsStricken with noise, confused with light.
If I could hear the green piles groaningUnder the windy wooden piers,See once again the bobbing barrels,And the black sticks that fence the weirs,
If I could see the weedy musselsCrusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,Hear once again the hungry cryingOverhead, of the wheeling gulls,
Feel once again the shanty strainingUnder the turning of the tide,Fear once again the rising freshet,Dread the bell in the fog outside,--
I should be happy,--that was happyAll day long on the coast of Maine!I have a need to hold and handleShells and anchors and ships again!
I should be happy, that am happyNever at all since I came here.I am too long away from water.I have a need of water near.
Words in this poem
- salty a.
- Somewhat salt; saltish.
- dooryard n.
- A yard in front of a house or around the door of a house.
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- stricken p. p.
- Struck; smitten; wounded; as, the stricken deer.
- weedy a.
- Of or pertaining to weeds; consisting of weeds.
- wheeling n.
- The act of conveying anything, or traveling, on wheels, or in a wheeled vehicle.
- shanty n.
- A small, mean dwelling; a rough, slight building for temporary use; a hut. [Said to be fr. Ir. sean old + tig. a house.]
- freshet n.
- A stream of fresh water. [OE. fresche flood + -et. See Fresh, a.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Exiled is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #59167; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Edna St. Vincent Millay, Exiled, in Poems (1923), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #59167, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/millay-poems/exiled.html, id L24380.
Form and metre
Exiled is 36 lines in 9 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
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-A sorrow · beA · people · seaA
- 2 -A-A sweetness · sprayA · sound · dayA
- 3 -A-A dooryard · seaA · wood · peaA
- 4 -A-A morning · nightA · buildings · lightA
- 5 -A-A groaning · piersA · barrels · weirsA
- 6 AA-A musselsA · hullsA · crying · gullsA
- 7 -A-A straining · tideA · freshet · outsideA
- 8 -A-A happy · maineA · handle · againA
- 9 -A-A happy · hereA · water · nearA
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Searching my heart for its true sorrow, | 9 | /˘·····/˘ |
| This is the thing I find to be: | 8 | ········ |
| That I am weary of words and people, | 10 | ···/˘···/˘ |
| Sick of the city, wanting the sea; | 9 | ···/˘/˘·· |
| Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness | 9 | /˘·/˘/˘/˘ |
| Of the strong wind and shattered spray; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound | 9 | /˘······· |
| Of the big surf that breaks all day. | 8 | ········ |
| Always before about my dooryard, | 9 | /······/˘ |
| Marking the reach of the winter sea, | 9 | /˘····/˘· |
| Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood, | 9 | /˘···/˘·· |
| Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea; | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| Always I climbed the wave at morning, | 9 | /······/˘ |
| Shook the sand from my shoes at night, | 8 | ········ |
| That now am caught beneath great buildings | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Stricken with noise, confused with light. | 8 | /˘··˘/·· |
| If I could hear the green piles groaning | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Under the windy wooden piers, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| See once again the bobbing barrels, | 9 | ··˘/·/˘/˘ |
| And the black sticks that fence the weirs, | 8 | ········ |
| If I could see the weedy mussels | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls, | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| Hear once again the hungry crying | 9 | ··˘/·/˘/˘ |
| Overhead, of the wheeling gulls, | 8 | /˘/··/˘· |
| Feel once again the shanty straining | 9 | ··˘/·/˘/˘ |
| Under the turning of the tide, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Fear once again the rising freshet, | 9 | ··˘/·/˘/˘ |
| Dread the bell in the fog outside,-- | 8 | ······// |
| I should be happy,--that was happy | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| All day long on the coast of Maine! | 8 | ········ |
| I have a need to hold and handle | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Shells and anchors and ships again! | 8 | ··/˘··˘/ |
| I should be happy, that am happy | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Never at all since I came here. | 8 | /˘······ |
| I am too long away from water. | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| I have a need of water near. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
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.