The Singing-Woman from the Wood’s Edge
What should I be but a prophet and a liar,Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar?Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water,What should I be but the fiend’s god-daughter?
And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog,That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog?And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar,But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe,As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby,You will find such flame at the wave’s weedy ebbAs flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother’s web,
But there comes to birth no common spawnFrom the love of a priest for a leprechaun,And you never have seen and you never will seeSuch things as the things that swaddled me!
After all’s said and after all’s done,What should I be but a harlot and a nun?
In through the bushes, on any foggy day,My dad would come a-swishing of the drops away,With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth,A-mumbling of his beads for all that he was worth.
And there’d sit my ma, with her knees beneath her chin,A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in,And a-marking in the moss some funny little sayingThat would mean just the opposite of all that he was praying!
He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin,He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin,He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil,And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up the devil!
Oh, the things I haven’t seen and the things I haven’t known,What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown,And yanked both ways by my mother and my father,With a “Which would you better?” and a “Which would you rather?”
With him for a sire and her for a dam,What should I be but just what I am?
Words in this poem
- liar n.
- A person who knowingly utters falsehood; one who lies. [OE. liere. See Lie to falsify.]
- crucifix n.
- A representation in art of the figure of Christ upon the cross; esp., the sculptured figure affixed to a real cross of wood, ivory, metal, or the like, used by the Roman Catholics in their devotions. [F. crucifix or LL. crucifixum, fr. L. crux, crucis, cross + figere, fixum, to fix. See Cross, and Fix, and cf. Crucify.]
- psalter n.
- The Book of Psalms; -- often applied to a book containing the Psalms separately printed. [OE. psauter, sauter, OF. sautier, psaltier, F. psautier, from L. psalterium. See Psaltery.]
- maybe adv.
- Perhaps; possibly; peradventure. [For it may be.]
- weedy a.
- Of or pertaining to weeds; consisting of weeds.
- mumbling a.
- Low; indistinct; inarticulate.
- funny a.
- Droll; comical; amusing; laughable. Funny bone. See crazy bone, under Crazy. [From Fun.]
- vesper n.
- The evening star; Hesper; Venus, when seen after sunset; hence, the evening. [L., the evening, the evening star, the west; akin to Gr. west. Cf. Hesperian, Vespers.]
- matin n.
- A French mastiff. [F. matin.]
- sire n.
- A lord, master, or other person in authority. See Sir. [F. sire, originally, an older person. See Sir.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Singing-Woman from the Wood’s Edge 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, The Singing-Woman from the Wood’s Edge, in Poems (1923), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #59167, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/millay-poems/the-singing-woman-from-the-wood-s-edge.html, id L24349.
Form and metre
The Singing-Woman from the Wood’s Edge is 36 lines in 10 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABB, complete in 7 of its 10 stanzas. The metre is iambic hexameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 74%).
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.
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 AABB liarA · friarA · waterB · daughterB
- 2 AABB frogA · bogA · altarB · psalterB
- 3 AABB maybeA · babyA · ebbB · webB
- 4 AABB spawnA · leprechaunA · seeB · meB
- 5 AA doneA · nunA
- 6 AABB dayA · awayA · birthB · worthB
- 7 AABB chinA · inA · sayingB · prayingB
- 9 AABB knownA · grownA · fatherB · ratherB
- 10 AA damA · amA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| What should I be but a prophet and a liar, | 11 | ······/˘··/ |
| Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar? | 14 | ·/˘······/˘··/ |
| Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water, | 13 | ···/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| What should I be but the fiend’s god-daughter? | 10 | ········/˘ |
| And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog, | 14 | ·····/···/˘··· |
| That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog? | 13 | ············· |
| And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar, | 15 | ·····/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter? | 13 | ·/˘·/˘·····/˘ |
| You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby, | 11 | ··/˘/˘···/˘ |
| You will find such flame at the wave’s weedy ebb | 11 | ········/˘· |
| As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother’s web, | 13 | ·/˘··/˘···/˘· |
| But there comes to birth no common spawn | 9 | ······/˘· |
| From the love of a priest for a leprechaun, | 11 | ··········· |
| And you never have seen and you never will see | 10 | ··/····/·· |
| Such things as the things that swaddled me! | 8 | ········ |
| After all’s said and after all’s done, | 9 | ········· |
| What should I be but a harlot and a nun? | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| In through the bushes, on any foggy day, | 11 | ···/˘·/˘/˘· |
| My dad would come a-swishing of the drops away, | 12 | ·····/˘···˘/ |
| With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth, | 12 | ············ |
| A-mumbling of his beads for all that he was worth. | 12 | ·/˘········· |
| And there’d sit my ma, with her knees beneath her chin, | 12 | ············ |
| A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in, | 13 | ·/˘·····/˘··· |
| And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying | 14 | ··/˘····/˘/˘/˘ |
| That would mean just the opposite of all that he was praying! | 14 | ·····/˘·····/˘ |
| He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin, | 14 | ····/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin, | 12 | ··········/˘ |
| He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil, | 12 | ···········/ |
| And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up the devil! | 14 | ·········/˘··/ |
| Oh, the things I haven’t seen and the things I haven’t known, | 14 | ····/˘·····/˘· |
| What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown, | 13 | ··/˘·/˘······ |
| And yanked both ways by my mother and my father, | 12 | ······/˘··/˘ |
| With a “Which would you better?” and a “Which would you rather?” | 14 | ·····/˘·····/˘ |
| With him for a sire and her for a dam, | 10 | ····/····· |
| What should I be but just what I am? | 9 | ········· |
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