To One Hated
"Hate is only Love that has missed its way."
Had it been when I came to the valley where the paths parted asunder,Chance had led my feet to the way of love, not hate,I might have cherished you well, have been to you fond and faithful,Great as my hatred is, so might my love have been great.
Each cold word of mine might have been a kiss impassioned,Warm with the throb of my heart, thrilled with my pulse's leap,And every glance of scorn, lashing, pursuing, and stinging,As a look of tenderness would have been wondrous and deep.
Bitter our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging,Twined with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul,But as its bitterness, so might have been our love's sweetnessHad it not missed the way—strange missing and sad!—to its goal.
Words in this poem
- impassioned p. p.
- Actuated or characterized by passion or zeal; showing warmth of feeling; ardent; animated; excited; as, an impassioned orator or discourse.
- throb v. i.
- To beat, or pulsate, with more than usual force or rapidity; to beat in consequence of agitation; to palpitate; -- said of the heart, pulse, etc. [OE. ; of uncertain origin; cf. Russ. trepete a trembling, and E. trepidation.]
- lashing n.
- The act of one who, or that which, lashes; castigation; chastisement. South. Lashing out, a striking out; also, extravagance.
- wondrous adv.
- In a wonderful or surprising manner or degree; wonderfully. [OE. wonders, adv. (later also adj.). See Wonder, n., and cf. -wards.]
- blent p. p.
- Blinded. Also (Chaucer), 3d sing. pres. Blindeth.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To One Hated 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, To One Hated, in The Watchman and Other Poems (1916), text of Internet Archive, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/montgomery-watchman/to-one-hated.html, id L29446.
Form and metre
To One Hated is 13 lines in 4 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter.
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.
- 2 -A-A asunder · hateA · faithful · greatA
- 3 -A-A impassioned · leapA · stinging · deepA
- 4 -A-A unchanging · soulA · sweetness · goalA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| "Hate is only Love that has missed its way." | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| Had it been when I came to the valley where the paths parted asunder, | 18 | ········/˘···/˘˘/˘ |
| Chance had led my feet to the way of love, not hate, | 12 | ············ |
| I might have cherished you well, have been to you fond and faithful, | 15 | ···/˘········/˘ |
| Great as my hatred is, so might my love have been great. | 13 | ···/˘········ |
| Each cold word of mine might have been a kiss impassioned, | 13 | ··········˘/˘ |
| Warm with the throb of my heart, thrilled with my pulse's leap, | 13 | ··········/˘· |
| And every glance of scorn, lashing, pursuing, and stinging, | 14 | ·/˘···/˘˘/˘·/˘ |
| As a look of tenderness would have been wondrous and deep. | 13 | ····/˘···/˘·· |
| Bitter our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging, | 13 | /˘//˘·····˘/˘ |
| Twined with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul, | 12 | ···/····/˘·· |
| But as its bitterness, so might have been our love's sweetness | 13 | ···/˘····/·/˘ |
| Had it not missed the way—strange missing and sad!—to its goal. | 14 | ·······/˘····· |
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.