Our Dead
Nothing is our own: we hold our pleasuresJust a little while, ere they are fled:One by one life robs us of our treasures;Nothing is our own except our Dead.
They are ours, and hold in faithful keepingSafe for ever, all they took away.Cruel life can never stir that sleeping,Cruel time can never seize that prey.
Justice pales; truth fades; stars fall from Heaven;Human are the great whom we revere:No true crown of honour can be given,Till we place it on a funeral bier.
How the Children leave us: and no tracesLinger of that smiling angel band;Gone, for ever gone; and in their places,Weary men and anxious women stand.
Yet we have some little ones, still ours;They have kept the baby smile we know,Which we kissed one day and hid with flowers,On their dead white faces, long ago.
When our Joy is lost--and life will take it--Then no memory of the past remains;Save with some strange, cruel sting, to make itBitterness beyond all present pains.
Death, more tender-hearted, leaves to sorrowStill the radiant shadow, fond regret:We shall find, in some far, bright to-morrow,Joy that he has taken, living yet.
Is Love ours, and do we dream we know it,Bound with all our heart-strings, all our own?Any cold and cruel dawn may show it,Shattered, desecrated, overthrown.
Only the dead Hearts forsake us never;Death's last kiss has been the mystic signConsecrating Love our own for ever,Crowning it eternal and divine.
So when Fate would fain besiege our city,Dim our gold, or make our flowers fall,Death the Angel, comes in love and pity,And to save our treasures, claims them all.
Words in this poem
- revere v. t.
- To regard with reverence, or profound respect and affection, mingled with awe or fear; to venerate; to reverence; to honor in estimation. [L. revereri; pref. re- re- + vereri to fear, perh. akin to E. wary: cf. F. révérer.]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- bier n.
- A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
- 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,]
- fain v. t.
- To be glad ; to wish or desire.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Our Dead 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, Our Dead, in Legends and Lyrics: Second Series (1861), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #2304, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/procter-legends-lyrics/our-dead.html, id L21801.
Form and metre
Our Dead is 40 lines in 10 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 9 of its 10 stanzas. The metre is trochaic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
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 ABAB pleasuresA · fledB · treasuresA · deadB
- 2 ABAB keepingA · awayB · sleepingA · preyB
- 3 -A-A heaven · revereA · given · bierA
- 4 ABAB tracesA · bandB · placesA · standB
- 5 ABAB oursA · knowB · flowersA · agoB
- 6 ABAB itA · remainsB · itA · painsB
- 7 ABAB sorrowA · regretB · morrowA · yetB
- 8 ABAB itA · ownB · itA · overthrownB
- 9 ABAB neverA · signB · everA · divineB
- 10 ABAB cityA · fallB · pityA · allB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Nothing is our own: we hold our pleasures | 11 | /˘·/···/˘/˘ |
| Just a little while, ere they are fled: | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| One by one life robs us of our treasures; | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Nothing is our own except our Dead. | 10 | /˘·/···/˘· |
| They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping | 11 | ··/˘···/˘/˘ |
| Safe for ever, all they took away. | 9 | ··/˘···˘/ |
| Cruel life can never stir that sleeping, | 10 | /˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Cruel time can never seize that prey. | 9 | /˘··/˘··· |
| Justice pales; truth fades; stars fall from Heaven; | 10 | /˘······/˘ |
| Human are the great whom we revere: | 9 | /˘·····˘/ |
| No true crown of honour can be given, | 10 | ····/˘··/˘ |
| Till we place it on a funeral bier. | 10 | ······/˘˘· |
| How the Children leave us: and no traces | 10 | ··/˘····/˘ |
| Linger of that smiling angel band; | 9 | /˘··/˘/˘· |
| Gone, for ever gone; and in their places, | 10 | ··/˘····/˘ |
| Weary men and anxious women stand. | 9 | /˘··/˘/˘· |
| Yet we have some little ones, still ours; | 10 | ····/˘··/˘ |
| They have kept the baby smile we know, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Which we kissed one day and hid with flowers, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| On their dead white faces, long ago. | 9 | ····/˘·˘/ |
| When our Joy is lost--and life will take it-- | 10 | ·/········ |
| Then no memory of the past remains; | 10 | ··/˘˘···˘/ |
| Save with some strange, cruel sting, to make it | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| Bitterness beyond all present pains. | 9 | /˘˘···/˘· |
| Death, more tender-hearted, leaves to sorrow | 10 | ··/˘/˘··/˘ |
| Still the radiant shadow, fond regret: | 10 | ··/˘˘/··˘/ |
| We shall find, in some far, bright to-morrow, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Joy that he has taken, living yet. | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Is Love ours, and do we dream we know it, | 10 | ··/······· |
| Bound with all our heart-strings, all our own? | 10 | ···/···/˘· |
| Any cold and cruel dawn may show it, | 10 | /˘··/˘···· |
| Shattered, desecrated, overthrown. | 10 | /˘˘˘˘/˘·˘/ |
| Only the dead Hearts forsake us never; | 10 | /˘···˘/·/˘ |
| Death's last kiss has been the mystic sign | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Consecrating Love our own for ever, | 11 | /˘·˘·/˘··/˘ |
| Crowning it eternal and divine. | 9 | /˘·˘/˘·˘/ |
| So when Fate would fain besiege our city, | 11 | ·····˘//˘/˘ |
| Dim our gold, or make our flowers fall, | 10 | ·/···/˘/˘· |
| Death the Angel, comes in love and pity, | 10 | ··/˘····/˘ |
| And to save our treasures, claims them all. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
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.