An Ideal
While the grey mists of early dawnWere lingering round the hill,And the dew was still upon the flowers,And the earth lay calm and still,A winged Spirit came to meNoble, and radiant, and free.
Folding his blue and shining wings,He laid his hand on mine.I know not if I felt, or heardThe mystic word divine,Which woke the trembling air to sighs,And shone from out his starry eyes.
The word he spoke, within my heartStirred life unknown before,And cast a spell upon my soulTo chain it evermore;Making the cold dull earth look bright,And skies flame out in sapphire light.
When noon ruled from the heavens, and manThrough busy day toiled on,My Spirit drooped his shining wings;His radiant smile was gone;His voice had ceased, his grace had flown,His hand grew cold within my own.
Bitter, oh bitter tears, I wept,Yet still I held his hand,Hoping with vague unreasoning hope:I would not understandThat this pale Spirit never moreCould be what he had been before.
Could it be so? My heart stood still.Yet he was by my side.I strove; but my despair was vain;Vain, too, was love and pride.Could he have changed to me so soon?My day was only at its noon.
Now stars are rising one by one,Through the dim evening air;Near me a household Spirit waits,With tender loving care;He speaks and smiles, but never sings,Long since he lost his shining wings.
With thankful, true content, I knowThis is the better way;Is not a faithful spirit mine--Mine still--at close of day? . . .Yet will my foolish heart repineFor that bright morning dream of mine.
Words in this poem
- starry a.
- Abounding with stars; adorned with stars.
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
- flown a.
- Flushed, inflated.
- thankful a.
- Obtaining or deserving thanks; thankworthy. [AS. Þancfull.]
- repine v. i.
- To fail; to wane. [Pref. re- + pine to languish.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
An Ideal is in the public domain. This text is taken from Legends and Lyrics. Part 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #2304; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Adelaide Anne Procter, An Ideal, in Legends and Lyrics: Second Series (1861), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #2304, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/procter-legends-lyrics/an-ideal.html, id L21800.
Form and metre
An Ideal is 48 lines in 8 stanzas of 6 lines each. 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 -A-ABB dawn · hillA · flowers · stillA · meB · freeB
- 2 -A-ABB wings · mineA · heard · divineA · sighsB · eyesB
- 3 -A-ABB heart · beforeA · soul · evermoreA · brightB · lightB
- 4 -A-ABB man · onA · wings · goneA · flownB · ownB
- 5 -A-ABB wept · handA · hope · understandA · moreB · beforeB
- 6 -A-ABB still · sideA · vain · prideA · soonB · noonB
- 7 -A-ABB one · airA · waits · careA · singsB · wingsB
- 8 -ABA-B know · wayA · mineB · dayA · repine · mineB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| While the grey mists of early dawn | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Were lingering round the hill, | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| And the dew was still upon the flowers, | 9 | ········/ |
| And the earth lay calm and still, | 7 | ······· |
| A winged Spirit came to me | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Noble, and radiant, and free. | 8 | /˘·/˘˘·· |
| Folding his blue and shining wings, | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| He laid his hand on mine. | 6 | ······ |
| I know not if I felt, or heard | 8 | ········ |
| The mystic word divine, | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| Which woke the trembling air to sighs, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And shone from out his starry eyes. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The word he spoke, within my heart | 8 | ········ |
| Stirred life unknown before, | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| And cast a spell upon my soul | 8 | ········ |
| To chain it evermore; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Making the cold dull earth look bright, | 8 | /˘······ |
| And skies flame out in sapphire light. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| When noon ruled from the heavens, and man | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Through busy day toiled on, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| My Spirit drooped his shining wings; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| His radiant smile was gone; | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| His voice had ceased, his grace had flown, | 8 | ········ |
| His hand grew cold within my own. | 8 | ········ |
| Bitter, oh bitter tears, I wept, | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| Yet still I held his hand, | 6 | ······ |
| Hoping with vague unreasoning hope: | 8 | /˘··˘/˘· |
| I would not understand | 6 | ····˘/ |
| That this pale Spirit never more | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Could be what he had been before. | 8 | ········ |
| Could it be so? My heart stood still. | 8 | ········ |
| Yet he was by my side. | 6 | ······ |
| I strove; but my despair was vain; | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Vain, too, was love and pride. | 6 | ······ |
| Could he have changed to me so soon? | 8 | ········ |
| My day was only at its noon. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Now stars are rising one by one, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Through the dim evening air; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Near me a household Spirit waits, | 8 | ···/·/˘· |
| With tender loving care; | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| He speaks and smiles, but never sings, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Long since he lost his shining wings. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| With thankful, true content, I know | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| This is the better way; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Is not a faithful spirit mine-- | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Mine still--at close of day? . . . | 6 | ······ |
| Yet will my foolish heart repine | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| For that bright morning dream of mine. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
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.