Wail
Love has gone a-rocketing.That is not the worst;I could do without the thing,And not be the first.
Joy has gone the way it came.That is nothing new;I could get along the same,--Many people do.
Dig for me the narrow bed,Now I am bereft.All my pretty hates are dead,And what have I left?
About this text
Wail is in the public domain. This text is taken from Enough Rope: Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #68353; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Dorothy Parker, Wail, in Enough Rope (1926), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #68353, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/parker-enough-rope/wail.html, id L27327.
Form and metre
Wail is 12 lines in 3 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%).
See other poems in trochaic 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 ABAB rocketingA · worstB · thingA · firstB
- 2 ABAB cameA · newB · sameA · doB
- 3 ABAB bedA · bereftB · deadA · leftB
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Love has gone a-rocketing. | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| That is not the worst; | 5 | ····· |
| I could do without the thing, | 7 | ······· |
| And not be the first. | 5 | ····· |
| Joy has gone the way it came. | 7 | ······· |
| That is nothing new; | 5 | ··/˘· |
| I could get along the same,-- | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| Many people do. | 5 | /˘/˘· |
| Dig for me the narrow bed, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Now I am bereft. | 5 | ···˘/ |
| All my pretty hates are dead, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And what have I left? | 5 | ····· |
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.