Poems
I came into the City and none knew me;None came forth, none shouted ‘He is here!Not a hand with laurel would bestrew me,All the way by which I drew anear--Night my banner, and my herald Fear.
But I knew where one so long had waitedIn the low room at the stairway’s height,Trembling lest my foot should be belated,Singing, sighing for the long hours’ flightTowards the moment of our dear delight.
I came into the City when you hail’d meSaviour, and again your chosen Lord:--Not one guessing what it was that fail’d me,While along the way as they adoredThousands, thousands, shouted in accord.
But through all the joy I knew--I only--How the hostel of my heart lay bare and cold,Silent of its music, and how lonely!Never, though you crown me with your gold,Shall I find that little chamber as of old!
Words in this poem
- bestrew v. t.
- To strew or scatter over; to besprinkle. [Spelt also bestrow.]
- anear v. t.
- To near; to approach.
- belated a.
- Delayed beyond the usual time; too late; overtaken by night; benighted.
- saviour n.
- One who saves, preserves, or delivers from destruction or danger. [OE. saveour, OF. salveor, F. sauveur, fr. L. salvator to save. See Save, v.]
- 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,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Poems is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1900, Project Gutenberg ebook #66619; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Frances Bannerman, Poems, text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66619, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/obev-frances-bannerman/an-upper-chamber.html, id L16289.
Form and metre
An Upper Chamber is 20 lines in 4 stanzas of 5 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABB. The metre is trochaic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.7 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 20% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic 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 ABABB meA · hereB · meA · anearB · fearB
- 2 ABABB waitedA · heightB · belatedA · flightB · delightB
- 3 ABABB meA · lordB · meA · adoredB · accordB
- 4 ABABB onlyA · coldB · lonelyA · goldB · oldB
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 trochaic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I came into the City and none knew me; | 11 | ·····/˘···· |
| None came forth, none shouted ‘He is here! | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Not a hand with laurel would bestrew me, | 10 | ····/˘·˘/· |
| All the way by which I drew anear-- | 9 | ·······˘/ |
| Night my banner, and my herald Fear. | 9 | ··/˘··/˘· |
| But I knew where one so long had waited | 10 | ········/˘ |
| In the low room at the stairway’s height, | 9 | ······/·· |
| Trembling lest my foot should be belated, | 10 | /˘·····˘/˘ |
| Singing, sighing for the long hours’ flight | 9 | /˘/˘····· |
| Towards the moment of our dear delight. | 9 | ··/˘·/·˘/ |
| I came into the City when you hail’d me | 11 | ·····/˘···· |
| Saviour, and again your chosen Lord:-- | 9 | /˘·˘/·/˘· |
| Not one guessing what it was that fail’d me, | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| While along the way as they adored | 9 | ·˘/····˘/ |
| Thousands, thousands, shouted in accord. | 9 | /˘/˘/˘·˘/ |
| But through all the joy I knew--I only-- | 10 | ········/˘ |
| How the hostel of my heart lay bare and cold, | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| Silent of its music, and how lonely! | 10 | /˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Never, though you crown me with your gold, | 9 | /˘······· |
| Shall I find that little chamber as of old! | 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.