III. 160
Till now no faith I had in Graces:Seemed strange to me their triple sight;Thee I see, and with faith am filledAdoring now in one the three!Poems: miscellaneous.
In exile I sacredly observeThe custom of my fatherland:I freedom to a birdlet giveOn Spring's holiday serene.And now I too have consolation:Wherefore murmur against my GodWhen at least to one living beingI could of freedom make a gift?
In silent gardens, in the spring, in the darkness of the nightSings above the rose from the east the nightingale;But dear rose neither feeling has, nor listens it,But under its lover's hymn waveth it and slumbers.
Dost thou not sing thus to beauty cold?Reflect, O bard, whither art thou striding?She neither listens, nor the bard she feels.Thou gazest? Bloom she does; thou callest?--Answer none she gives!
A floweret, withered, odorlessIn a book forgot I find;And already strange reflectionCometh into my mind.
Bloomed, where? when? In what spring?And how long ago? And plucked by whom?Was it by a strange hand? Was it by a dear hand?And wherefore left thus here?
Was it in memory of a tender meeting?Was it in memory of a fated parting?Was it in memory of a lonely walk?In the peaceful fields or in the shady woods?
Lives he still? Lives she still?And where their nook this very day?Or are they too witheredLike unto this unknown floweret?
Why dost thou neigh, O spirited steed,Why thy neck so low,Why thy mane unshakenWhy thy bit not gnawed?Do I then not fondle thee?Thy grain to eat art thou not free?Is not thy harness ornamented,Is not thy rein of silk,Is not thy shoe of silver,Thy stirrup not of gold?
The steed in sorrow answer gives:Hence am I quietBecause the distant tramp I hear,The trumpet's blow and the arrow's whizzAnd hence I neigh, since in the fieldNo longer feed I shall,Nor in beauty live and fondling,Neither shine with harness bright.
For soon the stern enemyMy harness whole shall takeAnd the shoes of silverTear he shall from feet mine light.Hence it is that grieves my spirit:That in place of my chaprakWith thy skin shall cover heMy perspiring sides.
Child, I dare not over theePronounce a blessing;Thou art of consolation a quiet angelMay then happy be thy lot....
Words in this poem
- fatherland n.
- One's native land; the native land of one's fathers or ancestors. [Imitated fr. D. vaderland. See Father, and Land.]
- birdlet n.
- A little bird; a nestling.
- wherefore adv.
- For which reason; so; -- used relatively. [Where + for.]
- whither adv.
- To what place; -- used interrogatively; as, whither goest thou [OE. whider. AS. hwider; akin to E. where, who; cf. Goth. hvadre whither. See Who, and cf. Hither, Thither.]
- floweret n.
- A small flower; a floret.
- nook n.
- A narrow place formed by an angle in bodies or between bodies; a corner; a recess; a secluded retreat. [OE. nok; cf. Gael. & Ir. niuc.]
- spirited a.
- Animated or possessed by a spirit.
- steed n.
- A horse, especially a spirited horse for state of war; -- used chiefly in poetry or stately prose. [OE. stede, AS. steda a stud-horse, war horse, fr. stod a stud of breeding steeds; akin to G. stute a mare, Icel. stedda, sto, a stud. *163. See Stud of horses.]
- whizz v. i.
- To make a humming or hissing sound, like an arrow or ball flying through the air; to fly or move swiftly with a sharp hissing or whistling sound. [Of imitative origin. Whistle, and Hiss.]
- 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,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
III. 160 is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems With Introduction and Notes, Project Gutenberg ebook #54991; 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, III. 160, in Poems (1888), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #54991, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/pushkin-poems/iii-160.html, id L25547.
Form and metre
III. 160 is 68 lines in 12 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 82%).
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.
- 2 ---AA--- observe · fatherland · give · sereneA · consolationA · god · being · gift
- 5 -A-A odorless · findA · reflection · mindA
- 9 ---ABBA--- steed · low · unshaken · gnawedA · theeB · freeB · ornamentedA · silk · silver · gold
- 11 ---AA--- enemy · take · silver · lightA · spiritA · chaprak · he · sides
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Till now no faith I had in Graces: | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Seemed strange to me their triple sight; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Thee I see, and with faith am filled | 8 | ········ |
| Adoring now in one the three! | 8 | ˘/˘····· |
| Poems: miscellaneous. | 7 | /˘·˘/˘˘ |
| In exile I sacredly observe | 9 | ·/·····˘/ |
| The custom of my fatherland: | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I freedom to a birdlet give | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| On Spring's holiday serene. | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| And now I too have consolation: | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Wherefore murmur against my God | 8 | /˘/˘···· |
| When at least to one living being | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| I could of freedom make a gift? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| In silent gardens, in the spring, in the darkness of the night | 15 | ·/˘/˘·····/˘··· |
| Sings above the rose from the east the nightingale; | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| But dear rose neither feeling has, nor listens it, | 12 | ···/˘/˘··/˘· |
| But under its lover's hymn waveth it and slumbers. | 13 | ····/˘·····/˘ |
| Dost thou not sing thus to beauty cold? | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Reflect, O bard, whither art thou striding? | 10 | ˘/··/˘··/˘ |
| She neither listens, nor the bard she feels. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Thou gazest? Bloom she does; thou callest?-- | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Answer none she gives! | 5 | /˘··· |
| A floweret, withered, odorless | 9 | ·/˘˘/˘/˘˘ |
| In a book forgot I find; | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| And already strange reflection | 8 | ·˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| Cometh into my mind. | 6 | /˘···· |
| Bloomed, where? when? In what spring? | 7 | ·˘····· |
| And how long ago? And plucked by whom? | 9 | ···˘/···· |
| Was it by a strange hand? Was it by a dear hand? | 12 | ············ |
| And wherefore left thus here? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Was it in memory of a tender meeting? | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Was it in memory of a fated parting? | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Was it in memory of a lonely walk? | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| In the peaceful fields or in the shady woods? | 11 | ··/˘····/˘· |
| Lives he still? Lives she still? | 6 | ······ |
| And where their nook this very day? | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Or are they too withered | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| Like unto this unknown floweret? | 9 | ····˘//˘˘ |
| Why dost thou neigh, O spirited steed, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Why thy neck so low, | 5 | ····· |
| Why thy mane unshaken | 6 | ···˘/˘ |
| Why thy bit not gnawed? | 5 | ····· |
| Do I then not fondle thee? | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Thy grain to eat art thou not free? | 8 | ········ |
| Is not thy harness ornamented, | 9 | ···/˘/˘·˘ |
| Is not thy rein of silk, | 6 | ······ |
| Is not thy shoe of silver, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Thy stirrup not of gold? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| The steed in sorrow answer gives: | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Hence am I quiet | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Because the distant tramp I hear, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The trumpet's blow and the arrow's whizz | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| And hence I neigh, since in the field | 8 | ········ |
| No longer feed I shall, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Nor in beauty live and fondling, | 9 | ··/˘··/˘˘ |
| Neither shine with harness bright. | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| For soon the stern enemy | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| My harness whole shall take | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And the shoes of silver | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Tear he shall from feet mine light. | 7 | ······· |
| Hence it is that grieves my spirit: | 8 | ······/˘ |
| That in place of my chaprak | 7 | ······· |
| With thy skin shall cover he | 7 | ····/˘· |
| My perspiring sides. | 5 | ·˘/˘· |
| Child, I dare not over thee | 7 | ······· |
| Pronounce a blessing; | 5 | ˘/·/˘ |
| Thou art of consolation a quiet angel | 11 | ····˘/˘·//˘ |
| May then happy be thy lot.... | 7 | ··/˘··· |
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.