On the Five Senses
All of us in one you'll find, Brethren of a wondrous kind;Yet among us all no brotherKnows one tittle of the other;We in frequent councils are,And our marks of things declare,Where, to us unknown, a clerkSits, and takes them in the dark.He's the register of allIn our ken, both great and small;By us forms his laws and rules,He's our master, we his tools;Yet we can with greatest easeTurn and wind him where we please.One of us alone can sleep,Yet no watch the rest will keep,But the moment that he closes,Every brother else reposes.If wine's brought or victuals drest,One enjoys them for the rest.Pierce us all with wounding steel,One for all of us will feel.Though ten thousand cannons roar,Add to them ten thousand more,Yet but one of us is foundWho regards the dreadful sound.Do what is not fit to tell,There's but one of us can smell.
Words in this poem
- wondrous adv.
- In a wonderful or surprising manner or degree; wonderfully. [OE. wonders, adv. (later also adj.). See Wonder, n., and cf. -wards.]
- tittle n.
- A particle; a minute part; a jot; an iota. [OE. titel, titil, apparently a dim. of tit, in the sense of small; cf. G. tüttel a tittle, dim. of OHG. tutta teat. Perhaps, however, the same word as title, n.]
- clerk n.
- A clergyman or ecclesiastic. [Either OF. clerc, fr. L. clericus a priest, or AS. clerc, cleric, clerk, priest, fr. L. clericus, fr. Gr. Clergy.]
- dreadful a.
- Full of dread or terror; fearful.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
On the Five Senses is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #13621; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Jonathan Swift, On the Five Senses, in Cadenus and Vanessa, and Other Poems (1710–1745), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #13621, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/swift-poems/on-the-five-senses.html, id L09262.
Form and metre
On the Five Senses is 27 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets, 81% of the lines. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 82%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.6 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 18% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in rhyming couplets, other poems in trochaic 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 -AA----BBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK kind · brotherA · otherA · are · declare · clerk · dark · allB · smallB · rulesC · toolsC · easeD · pleaseD · sleepE · keepE · closesF · reposesF · drestG · restG · steelH · feelH · roarI · moreI · foundJ · soundJ · tellK · smellK
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| All of us in one you'll find, Brethren of a wondrous kind; | 14 | ·······/˘··/˘· |
| Yet among us all no brother | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Knows one tittle of the other; | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| We in frequent councils are, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| And our marks of things declare, | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Where, to us unknown, a clerk | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| Sits, and takes them in the dark. | 7 | ······· |
| He's the register of all | 7 | ··/˘˘·· |
| In our ken, both great and small; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| By us forms his laws and rules, | 7 | ······· |
| He's our master, we his tools; | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Yet we can with greatest ease | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Turn and wind him where we please. | 7 | ······· |
| One of us alone can sleep, | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| Yet no watch the rest will keep, | 7 | ······· |
| But the moment that he closes, | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| Every brother else reposes. | 9 | /˘˘/˘·/·˘ |
| If wine's brought or victuals drest, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| One enjoys them for the rest. | 7 | ·˘/···· |
| Pierce us all with wounding steel, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| One for all of us will feel. | 7 | ······· |
| Though ten thousand cannons roar, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Add to them ten thousand more, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Yet but one of us is found | 7 | ······· |
| Who regards the dreadful sound. | 7 | ·˘/·/˘· |
| Do what is not fit to tell, | 7 | ······· |
| There's but one of us can smell. | 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.