Corn-Grinders
O little mouse, why dost thou cryWhile merry stars laugh in the sky?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!Ah, who will ease my bitter pain?He went to seek a millet-grainIn the rich farmer's granary shed;They caught him in a baited snare,And slew my lover unaware:Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little deer, why dost thou moan,Hid in thy forest-bower alone?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!Ah! who will quiet my lament?At fall of eventide he wentTo drink beside the river-head;A waiting hunter threw his dart,And struck my lover through the heart.Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little bride, why dost thou weepWith all the happy world asleep?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!Ah, who will stay these hungry tears,Or still the want of famished years,And crown with love my marriage-bed?My soul burns with the quenchless fireThat lit my lover's funeral pyre:Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
Words in this poem
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- unaware a.
- Not aware; not noticing; giving no heed; thoughtless; inattentive.
- eventide n.
- The time of evening; evening. [AS. æfentid. See Tide.]
- quenchless a.
- Incapable of being quenched; inextinguishable; as, quenchless fire or fury.
- pyre n.
- A funeral pile; a combustible heap on which the dead are burned; hence, any pile to be burnt. [L. pure, Gr. Fire.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Corn-Grinders is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Golden Threshold, with an introduction by Arthur Symons (Hyderabad, 1905; London, John Lane, 1905), Project Gutenberg ebook #680; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Sarojini Naidu, Corn-Grinders, in The Golden Threshold (1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #680, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/naidu-golden-threshold/corn-grinders.html, id L27480.
Form and metre
Corn-Grinders is 27 lines in 6 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABBACCA, complete in 3 of its 6 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%).
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 AA cryA · skyA
- 2 ABBACCA deadA · painB · grainB · shedA · snareC · unawareC · deadA
- 3 AA moanA · aloneA
- 4 ABBACCA deadA · lamentB · wentB · headA · dartC · heartC · deadA
- 5 AA weepA · asleepA
- 6 ABBACCA deadA · tearsB · yearsB · bedA · fireC · pyreC · deadA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| O little mouse, why dost thou cry | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| While merry stars laugh in the sky? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Alas! alas! my lord is dead! | 8 | ˘/˘/···· |
| Ah, who will ease my bitter pain? | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| He went to seek a millet-grain | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In the rich farmer's granary shed; | 9 | ···/˘/˘˘· |
| They caught him in a baited snare, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And slew my lover unaware: | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Alas! alas! my lord is dead. | 8 | ˘/˘/···· |
| O little deer, why dost thou moan, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Hid in thy forest-bower alone? | 8 | ···/˘/˘/ |
| Alas! alas! my lord is dead! | 8 | ˘/˘/···· |
| Ah! who will quiet my lament? | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| At fall of eventide he went | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| To drink beside the river-head; | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| A waiting hunter threw his dart, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And struck my lover through the heart. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Alas! alas! my lord is dead. | 8 | ˘/˘/···· |
| O little bride, why dost thou weep | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| With all the happy world asleep? | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Alas! alas! my lord is dead! | 8 | ˘/˘/···· |
| Ah, who will stay these hungry tears, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Or still the want of famished years, | 8 | ········ |
| And crown with love my marriage-bed? | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| My soul burns with the quenchless fire | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| That lit my lover's funeral pyre: | 8 | ···/˘/˘/ |
| Alas! alas! my lord is dead. | 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.