Palinodia
There was a time, when I could feelAll passion’s hopes and fears;And tell what tongues can ne’er revealBy smiles and sighs and tears.The days are gone! no more--no moreThe cruel Fates allow;And though I’m hardly twenty-four,--I’m not a lover now.Lady, the mist is on my sight,The chill is on my brow;My day is night, my bloom is blight;I’m not a lover now!
I never talk about the clouds,I laugh at girls and boys,I’m growing rather fond of crowds,And very fond of noise;I never wander forth aloneUpon the mountain’s brow;I weighed, last winter, sixteen stone;--I’m not a lover now!
I never wish to raise a veil,I never raise a sigh;I never tell a tender tale,I never tell a lie:I cannot kneel, as once I did;I’ve quite forgot my bow;I never do as I am bid;--I’m not a lover now!
I make strange blunders every day,If I would be gallant;Take smiles for wrinkles, black for grey,And nieces for their aunt:I fly from folly, though it flowsFrom lips of loveliest glow;I don’t object to length of nose;--I’m not a lover now!
I find my Ovid very dry,My Petrarch quite a pill,Cut Fancy for Philosophy,Tom Moore for Mr. Mill.And belles may read, and beaux may write,--I care not who or how;I burnt my Album, Sunday night;--I’m not a lover now!
I don’t encourage idle dreamsOf poison or of ropes:I cannot dine on airy schemes;I cannot sup on hopes:New milk, I own, is very fine,Just foaming from the cow;But yet I want my pint of wine;--I’m not a lover now!
When Laura sings young hearts away,I’m deafer than the deep;When Leonora goes to play,I sometimes go to sleep;When Mary draws her white gloves out,I never dance, I vow,--“Too hot to kick one’s heel’s about!”I’m not a lover now!
I’m busy, now, with state affairs;I prate of Pitt and Fox;I ask the price of rail-road shares,I watch the turns of stocks.And this is life! no verdure bloomsUpon the withered bough:I save a fortune in perfumes;--I’m not a lover now!
I may be yet, what others are,A boudoir’s babbling fool,The flattered star of Bench or Bar,A party’s chief, or tool:--Come shower or sunshine, hope or fear,The palace or the plough,--My heart and lute are broken here;--I’m not a lover now!Lady, the mist is on my sight,The chill is on my brow;My day is night, my bloom is blightI’m not a lover now!
Words in this poem
- kneel v. i.
- To bend the knee; to fall or rest on the knees; -- sometimes with down. [OE. knelen, cneolien; akin to D. knielen, Dan. knæle. See Knee.]
- dine v. i.
- To eat the principal regular meal of the day; to take dinner. [F. dîner, OF. disner, LL. disnare, contr. fr. an assumed disjunare; dis- + an assumed junare (OF. juner) to fast, for L. jejunare, fr. jejunus fasting. See Jeju]
- laura n.
- A number of hermitages or cells in the same neighborhood occupied by anchorites who were under the same superior. C. Kingsley.
- pitt n.
- A large cavity or hole in the ground, either natural or artificial; a cavity in the surface of a body; an indentation; specifically: (a) The shaft of a coal mine; a coal pit. [OE. pit, put, AS. pytt a pit, hole, L. puteus a well, pit.]
- boudoir n.
- A small room, esp. if pleasant, or elegantly furnished, to which a lady may retire to be alone, or to receive intimate friends; a lady's (or sometimes a gentleman's) private room.
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Palinodia 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, Palinodia, in Poems (1820–1839), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #71008, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/praed-poems/palinodia.html, id L10204.
Form and metre
Palinodia is 80 lines in 9 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 5 of its 9 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.0 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 10% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 ABABCDCDEDED feelA · fearsB · revealA · tearsB · moreC · allowD · fourC · nowD · sightE · browD · blightE · nowD
- 2 ABABCDCD cloudsA · boysB · crowdsA · noiseB · aloneC · browD · stoneC · nowD
- 3 ABABCDCD veilA · sighB · taleA · lieB · didC · bowD · bidC · nowD
- 4 ABABC-C- dayA · gallantB · greyA · auntB · flowsC · glow · noseC · now
- 5 -A-ABCBC dry · pillA · philosophy · millA · writeB · howC · nightB · nowC
- 6 ABABCDCD dreamsA · ropesB · schemesA · hopesB · fineC · cowD · wineC · nowD
- 7 ABABCDCD awayA · deepB · playA · sleepB · outC · vowD · aboutC · nowD
- 8 ABABCDCD affairsA · foxB · sharesA · stocksB · bloomsC · boughD · perfumesC · nowD
- 9 ABABCDCDEDED areA · foolB · barA · toolB · fearC · ploughD · hereC · nowD · sightE · browD · blightE · nowD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| There was a time, when I could feel | 8 | ········ |
| All passion’s hopes and fears; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And tell what tongues can ne’er reveal | 8 | ······˘/ |
| By smiles and sighs and tears. | 6 | ······ |
| The days are gone! no more--no more | 8 | ········ |
| The cruel Fates allow; | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| And though I’m hardly twenty-four,-- | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| I’m not a lover now. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Lady, the mist is on my sight, | 8 | /˘······ |
| The chill is on my brow; | 6 | ······ |
| My day is night, my bloom is blight; | 8 | ········ |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I never talk about the clouds, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I laugh at girls and boys, | 6 | ······ |
| I’m growing rather fond of crowds, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And very fond of noise; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I never wander forth alone | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Upon the mountain’s brow; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I weighed, last winter, sixteen stone;-- | 8 | ···/˘//· |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I never wish to raise a veil, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I never raise a sigh; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I never tell a tender tale, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I never tell a lie: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I cannot kneel, as once I did; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I’ve quite forgot my bow; | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| I never do as I am bid;-- | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I make strange blunders every day, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| If I would be gallant; | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Take smiles for wrinkles, black for grey, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And nieces for their aunt: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I fly from folly, though it flows | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| From lips of loveliest glow; | 7 | ······· |
| I don’t object to length of nose;-- | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I find my Ovid very dry, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| My Petrarch quite a pill, | 6 | ······ |
| Cut Fancy for Philosophy, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘˘ |
| Tom Moore for Mr. Mill. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And belles may read, and beaux may write,-- | 8 | ········ |
| I care not who or how; | 6 | ······ |
| I burnt my Album, Sunday night;-- | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I don’t encourage idle dreams | 8 | ··˘/˘/˘· |
| Of poison or of ropes: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| I cannot dine on airy schemes; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I cannot sup on hopes: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| New milk, I own, is very fine, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Just foaming from the cow; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| But yet I want my pint of wine;-- | 8 | ········ |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| When Laura sings young hearts away, | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| I’m deafer than the deep; | 6 | ······ |
| When Leonora goes to play, | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| I sometimes go to sleep; | 6 | ·˘/··· |
| When Mary draws her white gloves out, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I never dance, I vow,-- | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| “Too hot to kick one’s heel’s about!” | 8 | ········ |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I’m busy, now, with state affairs; | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| I prate of Pitt and Fox; | 6 | ······ |
| I ask the price of rail-road shares, | 8 | ········ |
| I watch the turns of stocks. | 6 | ······ |
| And this is life! no verdure blooms | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Upon the withered bough: | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| I save a fortune in perfumes;-- | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I may be yet, what others are, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| A boudoir’s babbling fool, | 7 | ·/·/˘˘· |
| The flattered star of Bench or Bar, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| A party’s chief, or tool:-- | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Come shower or sunshine, hope or fear, | 8 | ·/·/···· |
| The palace or the plough,-- | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| My heart and lute are broken here;-- | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Lady, the mist is on my sight, | 8 | /˘······ |
| The chill is on my brow; | 6 | ······ |
| My day is night, my bloom is blight | 8 | ········ |
| I’m not a lover now! | 6 | ···/˘· |
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