Realization
I smiled with skeptic mocking where they told me you were dead,You of the airy laughter and lightly twinkling feet;"They tell a dream that haunted a chill gray dawn," I said,"Death could not touch or claim a thing so vivid and so sweet!"
I looked upon you coffined amid your virgin flowers,But even that white silence could bring me no belief:"She lies in maiden sleep," I said. "and in the youngling hoursHer sealed dark eyes will open to scorn our foolish grief."
But when I went at moonrise to our ancient trysting place. . . .And, oh, the wind was keening in the fir-boughs overhead! . . . .And you came never to me with your little gypsy face,Your lips and hands of welcome, I knew that you were dead!
Words in this poem
- twinkling n.
- The act of one who, or of that which, twinkles; a quick movement of the eye; a wink; a twinkle. Holland.
- haunted a.
- Inhabited by, or subject to the visits of, apparitions; frequented by a ghost.
- amid prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
- youngling n.
- A young person; a youth; also, any animal in its early life. [AS. geongling.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- moonrise n.
- The rising of the moon above the horizon; also, the time of its rising.
- trysting n.
- An appointment; a tryst. Trysting day, an arranged day of meeting or assembling, as of soldiers, friends, and the like.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Realization 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, Realization, in The Watchman and Other Poems (1916), text of Internet Archive, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/montgomery-watchman/realization.html, id L29441.
Form and metre
Realization is 12 lines in 3 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic heptameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 83%).
See other poems in iambic heptameter.
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 ABAB deadA · feetB · saidA · sweetB
- 2 ABAB flowersA · beliefB · hoursA · griefB
- 3 ABAB placeA · overheadB · faceA · deadB
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 heptameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I smiled with skeptic mocking where they told me you were dead, | 14 | ···/˘/˘······· |
| You of the airy laughter and lightly twinkling feet; | 14 | ···/˘/˘·/˘/˘˘· |
| "They tell a dream that haunted a chill gray dawn," I said, | 13 | ·····/˘······ |
| "Death could not touch or claim a thing so vivid and so sweet!" | 14 | ·········/˘··· |
| I looked upon you coffined amid your virgin flowers, | 14 | ·····/˘˘/·/˘/˘ |
| But even that white silence could bring me no belief: | 13 | ·/˘··/˘····˘/ |
| "She lies in maiden sleep," I said. "and in the youngling hours | 15 | ···/˘······/˘/˘ |
| Her sealed dark eyes will open to scorn our foolish grief." | 14 | ·····/˘··/˘/˘· |
| But when I went at moonrise to our ancient trysting place. . . . | 14 | ·····/˘·//˘/˘· |
| And, oh, the wind was keening in the fir-boughs overhead! . . . . | 14 | ·····/˘····/˘/ |
| And you came never to me with your little gypsy face, | 14 | ···/˘····/˘/˘· |
| Your lips and hands of welcome, I knew that you were dead! | 13 | ·····/˘······ |
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.