At Nightfall
The dark is coming o'er the world, my playmate,And the fields where poplars stand are very still,All our groves of green delight have been invaded,There are voices quite unknown upon the hill;
The wind has grown too weary for a comrade,It is keening in the rushes spent and low,Let us join our hands and hasten very softlyTo the little, olden, friendly path we know.
The stars are laughing at us, O, my playmate,Very, very far away in lonely skies,The trees that were our friends are strangers to us,And the fern is full of whispers and of sighs.
The sounds we hear are not what we may share in,We may not linger where the white moths roam,We must hasten yet more swiftly, little playmate,To the house among the pines that is our home.
The dark is creeping closer yet, my playmate,And the woods seem crowding nearer as we go,Oh, how very, very bold have grown the shadows,They may touch us as they flutter to and fro!
The silence is too dreadful for our laughter,The night is very full of strange alarms,But it cannot hurt us now, O, little playmate,One more step and we are safe in mother's arms!
Words in this poem
- playmate n.
- A companion in diversions; a playfellow.
- olden a.
- Old; ancient; as, the olden time.
- closer n.
- One who, or that which, closes; specifically, a boot closer. See under Boot.
- dreadful a.
- Full of dread or terror; fearful.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
At Nightfall is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Watchman and Other Poems (New York: Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1917; Toronto: McClelland, Goodchild and Stewart, 1916), Internet Archive; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: L. M. Montgomery, At Nightfall, in The Watchman and Other Poems (1916), text of Internet Archive, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/montgomery-watchman/at-nightfall.html, id L29408.
Form and metre
At Nightfall is 24 lines in 6 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is alexandrines, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
See other poems in alexandrines.
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 playmate · stillA · invaded · hillA
- 2 -A-A comrade · lowA · softly · knowA
- 3 -A-A playmate · skiesA · us · sighsA
- 4 -A-A in · roamA · playmate · homeA
- 5 -A-A playmate · goA · shadows · froA
- 6 -A-A laughter · alarmsA · playmate · armsA
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 alexandrines. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| The dark is coming o'er the world, my playmate, | 11 | ···/˘····/· |
| And the fields where poplars stand are very still, | 11 | ····/˘··/˘· |
| All our groves of green delight have been invaded, | 12 | ·/···˘/··˘/˘ |
| There are voices quite unknown upon the hill; | 11 | ··/˘·˘/···· |
| The wind has grown too weary for a comrade, | 11 | ·····/˘··/· |
| It is keening in the rushes spent and low, | 11 | ··/˘··/˘··· |
| Let us join our hands and hasten very softly | 12 | ···/··/˘/˘/˘ |
| To the little, olden, friendly path we know. | 11 | ··/˘/˘/˘··· |
| The stars are laughing at us, O, my playmate, | 11 | ···/˘····/· |
| Very, very far away in lonely skies, | 11 | /˘/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| The trees that were our friends are strangers to us, | 11 | ····/··/˘·· |
| And the fern is full of whispers and of sighs. | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| The sounds we hear are not what we may share in, | 11 | ··········· |
| We may not linger where the white moths roam, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| We must hasten yet more swiftly, little playmate, | 12 | ··/˘··/˘/˘/· |
| To the house among the pines that is our home. | 11 | ·········/· |
| The dark is creeping closer yet, my playmate, | 11 | ···/˘/˘··/· |
| And the woods seem crowding nearer as we go, | 11 | ····/˘/˘··· |
| Oh, how very, very bold have grown the shadows, | 12 | ··/˘/˘····/· |
| They may touch us as they flutter to and fro! | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| The silence is too dreadful for our laughter, | 12 | ·/˘··/˘·/˘/˘ |
| The night is very full of strange alarms, | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| But it cannot hurt us now, O, little playmate, | 12 | ··/˘····/˘/· |
| One more step and we are safe in mother's arms! | 11 | ········/˘· |
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.