Song
Sweetly came the morning light,When fair Mary blest my sight,In her presence pleasures throng,Louder swelled the birds their song,Pleasanter the day became.
Not so radiant are Sol's rays,When on darkest clouds they blaze,As her look, so free from guile,As fair Mary's tender smile,As the smile of my beloved.
Not of dew the gems divineShine as Mary's beauties shine,Not with hers the rose's dyeOn the fairest cheek can vie,None have beauty like to hers.
Mary's kiss as honey sweet,Pure as streamlet clear and fleet,Love inhabits her soft eyes,Floats in all her soothing sighs,Nought on earth so sweet as she.
Let us, Mary, now enjoyNature's charms without alloy,Verdant lawn, and smiling grove;--Brooks that babble but of loveWill beside us softer flow.
Let us seek the pleasant shade,Sit in bowers by us arrayedWith gay flow'rets, where are heardSongs of many a pleasant bird,Which with rapture we will join.
In that sweet and lovely spot,All the cares of earth forgot,Thou, the comfort of my sight,Thou, my glory, my delight,Shalt my soul to peace allure.
The shades of spring's delicious evenInvited all to soft repose,I only sighed to listening heavenIn the still grove my bosom's woes.
My heart's distress had Fate completed,Snatched from my sight my best beloved,And echo's busy voice repeatedSweet Mary's name where'er I roved.
Without her sad the days and dreary,How cheerless drag life's moments on,Of pleasure's tumults sick and weary,All blissful thoughts for ever flown!
But still to me more keen the anguish,With secret grief my heart must swell,That her for whom I ceaseless languishI dare not of my passion tell.
No hope my cruel pain disarming,I live a prey to ceaseless wo,And Mary, sweet, and fair, and charming,How much I love her does not know.
How shall I calm this bosom's raging?O! how alleviate its smart?Her tender look, all grief assuaging,Alone can cure my wounded heart.
How blest am I thy charms enfolding,Cheerful thy smile as May's fair light,As Paradise thine eyes are bright,I all forget when thee beholding,--Thou canst not think how sweet thou art.Thy absence fills my soul with anguish,Beloved one! hopeless of reliefI count the mournful hours in grief,My heart for thee doth ceaseless languish,--Thou canst not think how sweet thou art!
Words in this poem
- streamlet n.
- A small stream; a rivulet; a rill.
- shalt
- 2d per. sing. of Shall.
- dreary a.
- Sorrowful; distressful. [OE. dreori, dreri, AS. dreórig, sad; akin to G. traurig, and prob. to AS. dreósan to fall, Goth. driusan. Cf. Dross, Drear, Drizzle, Drowse.]
- blissful a.
- Full of, characterized by, or causing, joy and felicity; happy in the highest degree.
- flown a.
- Flushed, inflated.
- ceaseless a.
- Without pause or end; incessant.
- languish v. i.
- To cause to dr Shak.
- 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,]
- alleviate v. t.
- To lighten or lessen the force or weight of. [LL. alleviare, fr. L. ad + levis light. See Alegge, Levity.]
- beholding a.
- Obliged; beholden.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Song is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #8192; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Alexander Pushkin, Song, in The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems (1849), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #8192, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/pushkin-bakchesarian/song-2.html, id L25572.
Form and metre
Song is 69 lines in 14 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%).
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 AABB- lightA · sightA · throngB · songB · became
- 2 AABB- raysA · blazeA · guileB · smileB · beloved
- 3 AABB- divineA · shineA · dyeB · vieB · hers
- 4 AABB- sweetA · fleetA · eyesB · sighsB · she
- 5 AA--- enjoyA · alloyA · grove · love · flow
- 6 AABB- shadeA · arrayedA · heardB · birdB · join
- 7 AABB- spotA · forgotA · sightB · delightB · allure
- 8 -A-A even · reposeA · heaven · woesA
- 9 A-A- completedA · beloved · repeatedA · roved
- 10 A-A- drearyA · on · wearyA · flown
- 11 ABAB anguishA · swellB · languishA · tellB
- 12 ABAB disarmingA · woB · charmingA · knowB
- 13 ABAB ragingA · smartB · assuagingA · heartB
- 14 ABBACDEEDC enfoldingA · lightB · brightB · beholdingA · artC · anguishD · reliefE · griefE · languishD · artC
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Sweetly came the morning light, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| When fair Mary blest my sight, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| In her presence pleasures throng, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Louder swelled the birds their song, | 8 | /˘·˘···· |
| Pleasanter the day became. | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Not so radiant are Sol's rays, | 8 | ··/˘˘··· |
| When on darkest clouds they blaze, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| As her look, so free from guile, | 7 | ······· |
| As fair Mary's tender smile, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| As the smile of my beloved. | 8 | ·····˘/˘ |
| Not of dew the gems divine | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Shine as Mary's beauties shine, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Not with hers the rose's dye | 7 | ····/˘· |
| On the fairest cheek can vie, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| None have beauty like to hers. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Mary's kiss as honey sweet, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Pure as streamlet clear and fleet, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Love inhabits her soft eyes, | 7 | ·˘/˘··· |
| Floats in all her soothing sighs, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Nought on earth so sweet as she. | 7 | ······· |
| Let us, Mary, now enjoy | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Nature's charms without alloy, | 7 | /˘···/· |
| Verdant lawn, and smiling grove;-- | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Brooks that babble but of love | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Will beside us softer flow. | 7 | ·˘/·/˘· |
| Let us seek the pleasant shade, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Sit in bowers by us arrayed | 8 | ··/˘··˘/ |
| With gay flow'rets, where are heard | 7 | ······· |
| Songs of many a pleasant bird, | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| Which with rapture we will join. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| In that sweet and lovely spot, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| All the cares of earth forgot, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Thou, the comfort of my sight, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Thou, my glory, my delight, | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Shalt my soul to peace allure. | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| The shades of spring's delicious even | 9 | ····˘/˘/˘ |
| Invited all to soft repose, | 8 | ˘/˘···˘/ |
| I only sighed to listening heaven | 8 | ·/˘··/˘/ |
| In the still grove my bosom's woes. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| My heart's distress had Fate completed, | 9 | ··˘/··˘/˘ |
| Snatched from my sight my best beloved, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And echo's busy voice repeated | 9 | ·/˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| Sweet Mary's name where'er I roved. | 9 | ·/˘·˘˘/·· |
| Without her sad the days and dreary, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| How cheerless drag life's moments on, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Of pleasure's tumults sick and weary, | 9 | ·/˘/˘··/˘ |
| All blissful thoughts for ever flown! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| But still to me more keen the anguish, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| With secret grief my heart must swell, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That her for whom I ceaseless languish | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| I dare not of my passion tell. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| No hope my cruel pain disarming, | 9 | ···/˘·˘/˘ |
| I live a prey to ceaseless wo, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And Mary, sweet, and fair, and charming, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| How much I love her does not know. | 8 | ········ |
| How shall I calm this bosom's raging? | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| O! how alleviate its smart? | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Her tender look, all grief assuaging, | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| Alone can cure my wounded heart. | 8 | ˘/···/˘· |
| How blest am I thy charms enfolding, | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Cheerful thy smile as May's fair light, | 8 | /˘······ |
| As Paradise thine eyes are bright, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I all forget when thee beholding,-- | 9 | ··˘/··˘/˘ |
| Thou canst not think how sweet thou art. | 8 | ········ |
| Thy absence fills my soul with anguish, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Beloved one! hopeless of relief | 8 | ˘/·/˘·˘/ |
| I count the mournful hours in grief, | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| My heart for thee doth ceaseless languish,-- | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Thou canst not think how sweet thou art! | 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.