Ballade of Broken Flutes
In dreams I crossed a barren land,A land of ruin, far away;Around me hung on every handA deathful stillness of decay;And silent, as in bleak dismayThat song should thus forsaken be,On that forgotten ground there layThe broken flutes of Arcady.
The forest that was all so grandWhen pipes and tabors had their swayStood leafless now, a ghostly bandOf skeletons in cold array.A lonely surge of ancient sprayTold of an unforgetful sea,But iron blows had hushed for ayeThe broken flutes of Arcady.
No more by summer breezes fanned,The place was desolate and gray;But still my dream was to commandNew life into that shrunken clay.I tried it. Yes, you scan to-day,With uncommiserating glee,The songs of one who strove to playThe broken flutes of Arcady.
Words in this poem
- deathful a.
- Full of death or slaughter; murderous; destructive; bloody.
- stillness n.
- The quality or state of being still; quietness; silence; calmness; inactivity.
- ghostly a.
- Relating to the soul; not carnal or secular; spiritual; as, a ghostly confessor. [OE. gastlich, gostlich, AS. gastlic. See Ghost.]
- scan v. t.
- To mount by steps; to go through with step by step. [L. scandere, scansum, to climb, to scan, akin to Skr. skand to spring, leap: cf. F. scander. Cf. Ascend, Descend, Scale a ladder.]
- glee n.
- Music; minstrelsy; entertainment.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Ballade of Broken Flutes is in the public domain. This text is taken from Children of the Night, Project Gutenberg ebook #313; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Edwin Arlington Robinson, Ballade of Broken Flutes, in The Children of the Night (1897), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #313, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/robinson-children-of-night/ballade-of-broken-flutes.html, id L07978.
Form and metre
Ballade of Broken Flutes is 24 lines in 3 stanzas of 8 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 95%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.4 syllables. 1 line ends on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 42% 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 ABABB-B- landA · awayB · handA · decayB · dismayB · be · layB · arcady
- 2 ABABBCC- grandA · swayB · bandA · arrayB · sprayB · seaC · ayeC · arcady
- 3 ABABB-B- fannedA · grayB · commandA · clayB · dayB · glee · playB · arcady
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 |
|---|---|---|
| In dreams I crossed a barren land, | 9 | ····˘·/˘· |
| A land of ruin, far away; | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Around me hung on every hand | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| A deathful stillness of decay; | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| And silent, as in bleak dismay | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| That song should thus forsaken be, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| On that forgotten ground there lay | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| The broken flutes of Arcady. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The forest that was all so grand | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| When pipes and tabors had their sway | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Stood leafless now, a ghostly band | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Of skeletons in cold array. | 8 | ·/˘˘··˘/ |
| A lonely surge of ancient spray | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Told of an unforgetful sea, | 8 | ········ |
| But iron blows had hushed for aye | 9 | ·/˘···˘·· |
| The broken flutes of Arcady. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| No more by summer breezes fanned, | 9 | ···/˘/˘·˘ |
| The place was desolate and gray; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But still my dream was to command | 8 | ······˘/ |
| New life into that shrunken clay. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I tried it. Yes, you scan to-day, | 8 | ········ |
| With uncommiserating glee, | 8 | ········ |
| The songs of one who strove to play | 8 | ········ |
| The broken flutes of Arcady. | 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.