Under
In this house, she said, in this high second storey,In this room where we sit, above the midnight street,There runs a rivulet, narrow but very rapid,Under the still floor and your unconscious feet.
The lamp on the table made a cone of lightThat spread to the base of the walls: above was in gloom.I heard her words with surprise; had I worked here so long,And never divined that secret of the room?
"But how," I asked, "does the water climb so high?""I do not know," she said, "but the thing is there;Pull up the boards while I go and fetch you a rod."She passed, and I heard her creaking descend the stair.
And I rose and rolled the Turkey carpet backFrom the two broad boards by the north wall she had named,And, hearing already the crumple of water, I kneltAnd lifted the first of them up; and the water gleamed,
Bordered with little frosted heaps of ice,And, as she came back with a rod and line that swung,I moved the other board; in the yellow lightThe water trickled frostily, slackly along.
I took the tackle, a stiff black rubber worm,That stuck out its pointed tail from a cumbrous hook,"But there can't be fishing in water like this," I said.And she, with weariness, "There is no ice there. Look."
And I stood there, gazing down at a stream in spate,Holding the rod in my undecided hand...Till it all in a moment grew smooth and still and clear,And along its deep bottom of slaty grey sand
Three scattered little trout, as black as tadpoles,Came waggling slowly along the glass-dark lake,And I swung my arm to drop my pointing worm in,And then I stopped again with a little shake.
For I heard the thin gnat-like voices of the trout--My body felt woolly and sick and astray and cold--Crying with mockery in them: "You are not allowedTo take us, you know, under ten years old."
And the room swam, the calm woman and the yellow lamp,The table, and the dim-glistering walls, and the floor,And the stream sank away, and all whirled dizzily,And I moaned, and the pain at my heart grew more and more.
And I fainted away, utterly miserable.Falling in a place where there was nothing to pass,Knowing all sorrows and the mothers and sisters of sorrows,And the pain of the darkness before anything ever was.
Words in this poem
- crumple v. t.
- To draw or press into wrinkles or folds to crush together; to rumple; as, to crumple paper. [Dim. fr. crump, a.]
- frosted a.
- Covered with hoarfrost or anything resembling hoarfrost; ornamented with frosting; also, frost-bitten; as, a frosted cake; frosted glass.
- frostily adv.
- In a frosty manner.
- slackly adv.
- In a slack manner. Trench.
- cumbrous a.
- Rendering action or motion difficult or toilsome; serving to obstruct or hinder; burdensome; clogging.
- spate n.
- A river flood; an overflow or inundation. Burns. [Of Celtic origin; cf. Ir. speid.]
- dizzily adv.
- In a dizzy manner or state.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Under is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems - First Series, Project Gutenberg ebook #37860; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Collings Squire, Under, in Poems: First Series (1918), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #37860, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/squire-poems/under.html, id L23198.
Form and metre
Under is 44 lines in 11 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is alexandrines, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 71%).
See other poems in alexandrines.
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-A storey · streetA · rapid · feetA
- 2 -A-A light · gloomA · long · roomA
- 3 -A-A high · thereA · rod · stairA
- 6 -A-A worm · hookA · said · lookA
- 7 -A-A spate · handA · clear · sandA
- 8 -A-A tadpoles · lakeA · in · shakeA
- 9 -A-A trout · coldA · allowed · oldA
- 10 -A-A lamp · floorA · dizzily · moreA
- 11 --AA miserable · pass · sorrowsA · wasA
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 alexandrines. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| In this house, she said, in this high second storey, | 12 | ········/˘/˘ |
| In this room where we sit, above the midnight street, | 12 | ·········/·· |
| There runs a rivulet, narrow but very rapid, | 13 | ···/˘˘/˘·/˘/˘ |
| Under the still floor and your unconscious feet. | 11 | ········/˘· |
| The lamp on the table made a cone of light | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| That spread to the base of the walls: above was in gloom. | 13 | ············· |
| I heard her words with surprise; had I worked here so long, | 13 | ·····˘/······ |
| And never divined that secret of the room? | 10 | ·/˘/·/˘··· |
| "But how," I asked, "does the water climb so high?" | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| "I do not know," she said, "but the thing is there; | 11 | ··········· |
| Pull up the boards while I go and fetch you a rod." | 12 | ············ |
| She passed, and I heard her creaking descend the stair. | 12 | ······/˘˘/·· |
| And I rose and rolled the Turkey carpet back | 11 | ······/˘/˘· |
| From the two broad boards by the north wall she had named, | 12 | ············ |
| And, hearing already the crumple of water, I knelt | 14 | ·/˘˘/˘·/˘·/˘·· |
| And lifted the first of them up; and the water gleamed, | 13 | ·/˘·······/˘· |
| Bordered with little frosted heaps of ice, | 10 | /˘·/˘/˘··· |
| And, as she came back with a rod and line that swung, | 12 | ············ |
| I moved the other board; in the yellow light | 11 | ···/˘···/˘· |
| The water trickled frostily, slackly along. | 12 | ·/˘/˘/˘˘/˘˘/ |
| I took the tackle, a stiff black rubber worm, | 11 | ···/˘···/˘· |
| That stuck out its pointed tail from a cumbrous hook, | 12 | ····/˘···/˘· |
| "But there can't be fishing in water like this," I said. | 13 | ····/˘·/˘···· |
| And she, with weariness, "There is no ice there. Look." | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| And I stood there, gazing down at a stream in spate, | 12 | ····/˘······ |
| Holding the rod in my undecided hand... | 11 | /˘·····˘/˘· |
| Till it all in a moment grew smooth and still and clear, | 13 | ·····/˘······ |
| And along its deep bottom of slaty grey sand | 12 | ·˘/··/˘·/˘·· |
| Three scattered little trout, as black as tadpoles, | 11 | ·/˘/˘····/· |
| Came waggling slowly along the glass-dark lake, | 11 | ·/˘/˘˘/···· |
| And I swung my arm to drop my pointing worm in, | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| And then I stopped again with a little shake. | 11 | ····˘/··/˘· |
| For I heard the thin gnat-like voices of the trout | 12 | ·······/˘··· |
| --My body felt woolly and sick and astray and cold-- | 13 | ·/˘·/˘···˘/·· |
| Crying with mockery in them: "You are not allowed | 12 | /˘·/˘·····˘/ |
| To take us, you know, under ten years old." | 10 | ·········· |
| And the room swam, the calm woman and the yellow lamp, | 13 | ······/˘··/˘· |
| The table, and the dim-glistering walls, and the floor, | 13 | ·/˘·········· |
| And the stream sank away, and all whirled dizzily, | 12 | ····˘/···/˘˘ |
| And I moaned, and the pain at my heart grew more and more. | 13 | ············· |
| And I fainted away, utterly miserable. | 10 | ··/˘˘//˘/˘ |
| Falling in a place where there was nothing to pass, | 12 | /˘······/˘·· |
| Knowing all sorrows and the mothers and sisters of sorrows, | 14 | /·/˘··/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| And the pain of the darkness before anything ever was. | 14 | ·····/˘··/˘·/· |
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.