The Presentation
When in the womb of Time our souls' own sonDear Love lay sleeping till his natal hour,Long months I knew not that sweet life begun,Too dimly treasuring thy touch of power;And wandering all those daysBy far-off ways,Forgot immortal seed must have immortal flower.
Only, beloved, since my beloved thou artI do remember, now that memory's vain,How twice or thrice beneath my beating heartLife quickened suddenly with proudest pain.Then dreamed I Love's increase,Yet held my peaceTill I might render thee thy own great gift again.
For as with bodies, so with souls it is,The greater gives, the lesser doth conceive:That thou hast fathered Love, I tell thee this,And by my pangs beseech thee to believe.Look on his hope divine--Thy hope and mine--Pity his outstretched hands, tenderly him receive!
Words in this poem
- womb n.
- The belly; the abdomen. [OE. wombe, wambe, AS. wamb, womb; akin to D. wam belly, OS. & OHG. wamba, G. wamme, wampe, Icel. vömb, Sw. v&mb, Dan. vom, Goth. wamba.]
- natal a.
- Of or pertaining to one's birth; accompying or dating from one's birth; native. [L. natalis, fr. natus, p.p. of nasci to be born: cf. F. natal. See Nation, and cf. Noel.]
- dimly adv.
- In a dim or obscure manner; not brightly or clearly; with imperfect sight.
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- tenderly adv.
- In a tender manner; with tenderness; mildly; gently; softly; in a manner not to injure or give pain; with pity or affection; kindly.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Presentation is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems: New and Old, Project Gutenberg ebook #24405; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry John Newbolt, The Presentation, in Poems: New and Old (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #24405, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/newbolt-poems/the-presentation.html, id L11463.
Form and metre
The Presentation is 21 lines in 3 stanzas of 7 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCCB, complete in 2 of its 3 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.9 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 24% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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.
- 1 ABABCCB sonA · hourB · begunA · powerB · daysC · waysC · flowerB
- 2 ABABCCB artA · vainB · heartA · painB · increaseC · peaceC · againB
- 3 -A-ABBA is · conceiveA · this · believeA · divineB · mineB · receiveA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| When in the womb of Time our souls' own son | 10 | ······/··· |
| Dear Love lay sleeping till his natal hour, | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Long months I knew not that sweet life begun, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Too dimly treasuring thy touch of power; | 11 | ·/˘/˘˘···/˘ |
| And wandering all those days | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| By far-off ways, | 4 | ···· |
| Forgot immortal seed must have immortal flower. | 12 | ˘/˘/˘···˘/˘/ |
| Only, beloved, since my beloved thou art | 10 | /˘˘/··˘/·· |
| I do remember, now that memory's vain, | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| How twice or thrice beneath my beating heart | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Life quickened suddenly with proudest pain. | 10 | ·/˘/˘˘·/˘· |
| Then dreamed I Love's increase, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Yet held my peace | 4 | ···· |
| Till I might render thee thy own great gift again. | 12 | ···/˘·····˘/ |
| For as with bodies, so with souls it is, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The greater gives, the lesser doth conceive: | 10 | ·/˘··/˘·˘/ |
| That thou hast fathered Love, I tell thee this, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And by my pangs beseech thee to believe. | 10 | ····˘/··˘/ |
| Look on his hope divine-- | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Thy hope and mine-- | 4 | ···· |
| Pity his outstretched hands, tenderly him receive! | 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.