Cousins
Had you ever a Cousin, Tom?Did your Cousin happen to sing?Sisters we’ve all by the dozen, Tom,But a Cousin’s a different thing:And you’d find, if you ever had kissed her, Tom,(But let this be a secret between us,)That your lips would have been a blister, Tom,For they’re not of the Sister genus.
There is something, Tom, in a Sister’s lip,When you give her a good-night kiss,That savours so much of relationshipThat nothing occurs amiss;But a Cousin’s lip if you once uniteWith yours, in the quietest way,Instead of sleeping a week that night,You’ll be dreaming the following day.
And people think it no harm, Tom,With a Cousin to hear you talk;And no one feels any alarm, Tom,At a quiet, cousinly walk;--That such walks often grow into straying,And the voices of Cousins are sometimes so low,Heaven only knows what you’ll be saying!
And then there happen so often, Tom,Soft pressures of hands and fingers,And looks that were moulded to soften, Tom,And tones on which memory lingers;That long ere the walk is half over, those stringsOf your heart are all put in play,By the voice of those fair, demi-sisterly things,In not quite the most brotherly way.
And the song of a Sister may bring to you, Tom,Such tones as the angels woo,But I fear if your Cousin should sing to you, Tom,You’ll take her for an angel, too;For so curious a note is that note of theirs,That you’ll fancy the voice that gave itHas been all the while singing the National Airs,Instead of the Psalms of David.
I once had a Cousin who sung, Tom,And her name may be nameless now,But the sound of those songs is still young, Tom,Though we are no longer so:’Tis folly to dream of a bower of greenWhen there is not a leaf on the tree;--But ’twixt walking and singing, that Cousin has been,God forgive her! the ruin of me.
And now I care nought for society, Tom,And lead a most anchorite life,For I’ve loved myself into sobriety, Tom,And out of the wish for a wife;But oh! if I said but half what I might say,So sad were the lesson ’twould give,That ’twould keep you from loving for many a day,And from Cousins--as long as you live.
Words in this poem
- cousinly a.
- Like or becoming a cousin.
- curious a.
- Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
- nameless a.
- Without a name; not having been given a name; as, a nameless star.
- anchorite n.
- One who renounces the world and secludes himself, usually for religious reasons; a hermit; a recluse. [Written by some authors anachoret.] [F. anachorète, L. anachoreta, fr. Gr. ha to leave. Cf. Anchor a hermit.]
- sobriety n.
- Habitual soberness or temperance as to the use of spirituous liquors; as, a man of sobriety. [L. sobrietas: cf. F. sobriété. See Sober.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Cousins is in the public domain. This text is taken from The poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed. [selected], Project Gutenberg ebook #71008; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Winthrop Mackworth Praed, Cousins, in Poems (1820–1839), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #71008, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/praed-poems/cousins.html, id L10170.
Form and metre
Cousins is 55 lines in 7 stanzas. The commonest rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, in 3 of the 7 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. The metre is anapaestic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 83%). 84% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.2 syllables. 6 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 9% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in anapaestic trimeter.
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 ABABACAC tomA · singB · tomA · thingB · tomA · usC · tomA · genusC
- 2 ABABCDCD lipA · kissB · relationshipA · amissB · uniteC · wayD · nightC · dayD
- 3 ABABC-C tomA · talkB · tomA · walkB · strayingC · low · sayingC
- 4 ABABCDCD tomA · fingersB · tomA · lingersB · stringsC · playD · thingsC · wayD
- 5 ABABC-C- tomA · wooB · tomA · tooB · theirsC · it · airsC · david
- 6 A-A--B-B tomA · now · tomA · so · green · treeB · been · meB
- 7 ABABCDCD tomA · lifeB · tomA · wifeB · sayC · giveD · dayC · liveD
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 anapaestic trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Had you ever a Cousin, Tom? | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| Did your Cousin happen to sing? | 8 | ··/˘/˘·· |
| Sisters we’ve all by the dozen, Tom, | 9 | /˘····/˘· |
| But a Cousin’s a different thing: | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| And you’d find, if you ever had kissed her, Tom, | 10 | ·····/···· |
| (But let this be a secret between us,) | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| That your lips would have been a blister, Tom, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| For they’re not of the Sister genus. | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| There is something, Tom, in a Sister’s lip, | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| When you give her a good-night kiss, | 8 | ········ |
| That savours so much of relationship | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘· |
| That nothing occurs amiss; | 7 | ·/˘˘/˘/ |
| But a Cousin’s lip if you once unite | 10 | ··/˘····/· |
| With yours, in the quietest way, | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Instead of sleeping a week that night, | 9 | ˘/·/˘···· |
| You’ll be dreaming the following day. | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| And people think it no harm, Tom, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| With a Cousin to hear you talk; | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| And no one feels any alarm, Tom, | 9 | ····/˘˘/· |
| At a quiet, cousinly walk;-- | 8 | ··/˘/˘˘· |
| That such walks often grow into straying, | 10 | ···/˘···/˘ |
| And the voices of Cousins are sometimes so low, | 12 | ··/˘·/˘·˘/·· |
| Heaven only knows what you’ll be saying! | 9 | //˘····/˘ |
| And then there happen so often, Tom, | 9 | ···/˘·/˘· |
| Soft pressures of hands and fingers, | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| And looks that were moulded to soften, Tom, | 10 | ····/˘·/˘· |
| And tones on which memory lingers; | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| That long ere the walk is half over, those strings | 10 | ·········· |
| Of your heart are all put in play, | 8 | ········ |
| By the voice of those fair, demi-sisterly things, | 12 | ······/˘/˘˘· |
| In not quite the most brotherly way. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And the song of a Sister may bring to you, Tom, | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| Such tones as the angels woo, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| But I fear if your Cousin should sing to you, Tom, | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| You’ll take her for an angel, too; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| For so curious a note is that note of theirs, | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| That you’ll fancy the voice that gave it | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Has been all the while singing the National Airs, | 11 | ·····/˘·/˘· |
| Instead of the Psalms of David. | 8 | ˘/····/˘ |
| I once had a Cousin who sung, Tom, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| And her name may be nameless now, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But the sound of those songs is still young, Tom, | 10 | ·········· |
| Though we are no longer so: | 7 | ····/˘· |
| ’Tis folly to dream of a bower of green | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
| When there is not a leaf on the tree;-- | 9 | ········· |
| But ’twixt walking and singing, that Cousin has been, | 12 | ··/˘·/˘·/˘·· |
| God forgive her! the ruin of me. | 8 | ·˘/··/·· |
| And now I care nought for society, Tom, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| And lead a most anchorite life, | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| For I’ve loved myself into sobriety, Tom, | 11 | ····/··˘/˘· |
| And out of the wish for a wife; | 8 | ········ |
| But oh! if I said but half what I might say, | 11 | ··········· |
| So sad were the lesson ’twould give, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| That ’twould keep you from loving for many a day, | 11 | ·····/˘·/·· |
| And from Cousins--as long as you live. | 9 | ··/˘····· |
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