I dream’d there would be Spring no more

Alfred Tennyson (1809–1892) · 1850

iambic tetrameter · ABBA · 20 lines · from In Memoriam A.H.H.

I dream’d there would be Spring no more,That Nature’s ancient power was lost:The streets were black with smoke and frost,They chatter’d trifles at the door.

I wander’d from the noisy town,I found a wood with thorny boughs:I took the thorns to bind my brows,I wore them like a civic crown.

I met with scoffs, I met with scornsFrom youth and babe and hoary hairs:They call’d me in the public squaresThe fool that wears a crown of thorns.

They call’d me fool, they call’d me child:I found an angel of the night:The voice was low, the look was bright,He look’d upon my crown and smiled:

He reach’d the glory of a hand,That seem’d to touch it into leaf:The voice was not the voice of grief;The words were hard to understand.

Words in this poem

civic a.
Relating to, or derived from, a city or citizen; relating to man as a member of society, or to civil affairs. Civic crown (Rom. [L.civicus, fr. civis citizen. See City.]
babe n.
An infant; a young child of either sex; a baby. [Cf. Ir. bab, baban, W. baban, maban.]
hoary a.
White or whitish."The hoary willows."

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

I dream’d there would be Spring no more is in the public domain. This text is taken from In memoriam, Project Gutenberg ebook #70950; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Alfred Tennyson, I dream’d there would be Spring no more, in In Memoriam A.H.H. (1850), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #70950, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tennyson-in-memoriam/section-67.html, id L18427.

Form and metre

I dream’d there would be Spring no more is 20 lines in 5 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBA. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 97%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 10% 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. 1 ABBA moreA · lostB · frostB · doorA
  2. 2 ABBA townA · boughsB · browsB · crownA
  3. 3 ABBA scornsA · hairsB · squaresB · thornsA
  4. 4 ABBA childA · nightB · brightB · smiledA
  5. 5 ABBA handA · leafB · griefB · understandA
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.

LineSyl.Stress
I dream’d there would be Spring no more,8········
That Nature’s ancient power was lost:8·/˘/˘/··
The streets were black with smoke and frost,8········
They chatter’d trifles at the door.8···/˘···
I wander’d from the noisy town,8·/˘··/˘·
I found a wood with thorny boughs:8·····/˘·
I took the thorns to bind my brows,8········
I wore them like a civic crown.8·····/˘·
I met with scoffs, I met with scorns8········
From youth and babe and hoary hairs:8·····/˘·
They call’d me in the public squares8·····/˘·
The fool that wears a crown of thorns.8········
They call’d me fool, they call’d me child:8········
I found an angel of the night:8···/˘···
The voice was low, the look was bright,8········
He look’d upon my crown and smiled:8········
He reach’d the glory of a hand,8···/˘···
That seem’d to touch it into leaf:8········
The voice was not the voice of grief;8········
The words were hard to understand.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.

More by Alfred Tennyson