The Sculptor
This is my statue: cold and whiteIt stands and takes the morning light!The world may flout my hopes and fears,Yet was my life's work washed with tearsOf blood when this poor hand last nightFinished the pain of years.
Speak for me, patient lips of stone,Blind eyes my lips have rested onSo often when the o'er-weary brainWould grope to human love again,And found this grave cold mask aloneAnd the tears fell like rain.
Ay; is this all? Is this the browI fondled, never wondering howIt lived--the face of pain and blissThat through the marble met my kiss?Oh, though the whole world praise it now,Let no man dream it is!
They blame; they cannot blame arightWho never knew what infiniteDeep loss must shame me most of all!They praise; like earth their praises fallInto a tomb. The hour of lightIs flown beyond recall.
Yet have I seen, yet have I known,And oh, not tombed in cold white stoneThe dream I lose on earth below;And I shall come with face aglowAnd find and claim it for my ownBefore God's throne, I know.
Words in this poem
- aright adv.
- Rightly; correctly; in a right way or form; without mistake or crime; as, to worship God aright. [Pref. a- + right.]
- flown a.
- Flushed, inflated.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- aglow adv.
- In a glow; glowing; as, cheeks aglow; the landscape all aglow. [Pref. a- + glow.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Sculptor is in the public domain. This text is taken from Collected Poems: Volume One, Project Gutenberg ebook #30501; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Alfred Noyes, The Sculptor, in Collected Poems, Volume One (1913), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #30501, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/noyes-collected/the-sculptor.html, id L21470.
Form and metre
The Sculptor is 30 lines in 5 stanzas of 6 lines each. The rhyme scheme is AABBAB, complete in 3 of its 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%).
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 AABBAB whiteA · lightA · fearsB · tearsB · nightA · yearsB
- 2 A-BBAB stoneA · on · brainB · againB · aloneA · rainB
- 3 AABBA- browA · howA · blissB · kissB · nowA · is
- 4 AABBAB arightA · infiniteA · allB · fallB · lightA · recallB
- 5 AABBAB knownA · stoneA · belowB · aglowB · ownA · knowB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| This is my statue: cold and white | 8 | ···/···· |
| It stands and takes the morning light! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The world may flout my hopes and fears, | 8 | ········ |
| Yet was my life's work washed with tears | 8 | ········ |
| Of blood when this poor hand last night | 8 | ········ |
| Finished the pain of years. | 7 | /˘˘···· |
| Speak for me, patient lips of stone, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Blind eyes my lips have rested on | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| So often when the o'er-weary brain | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| Would grope to human love again, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| And found this grave cold mask alone | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And the tears fell like rain. | 6 | ······ |
| Ay; is this all? Is this the brow | 8 | ········ |
| I fondled, never wondering how | 8 | ·/˘//˘˘· |
| It lived--the face of pain and bliss | 8 | ········ |
| That through the marble met my kiss? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Oh, though the whole world praise it now, | 8 | ········ |
| Let no man dream it is! | 6 | ······ |
| They blame; they cannot blame aright | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Who never knew what infinite | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| Deep loss must shame me most of all! | 8 | ········ |
| They praise; like earth their praises fall | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Into a tomb. The hour of light | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Is flown beyond recall. | 6 | ····/· |
| Yet have I seen, yet have I known, | 8 | ········ |
| And oh, not tombed in cold white stone | 8 | ········ |
| The dream I lose on earth below; | 8 | ········ |
| And I shall come with face aglow | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And find and claim it for my own | 8 | ········ |
| Before God's throne, I know. | 6 | ······ |
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.