So many worlds, so much to do
So many worlds, so much to do,So little done, such things to be,How know I what had need of thee,For thou wert strong as thou wert true?
The fame is quench’d that I foresaw,The head hath miss’d an earthly wreath:I curse not nature; no, nor death,For nothing is that errs from law.
We pass: the path that each man trodIs dim, or will be dim, with weeds:What fame is left for human deedsIn endless age? It rests with God.
O hollow wraith of dying fame,Fade wholly, while the soul exults,And self-infolds the large resultsOf force that would have forged a name.
Words in this poem
- wraith n.
- An apparition of a person in his exact likeness, seen before death, or a little after; hence, an apparition; a specter; a vision; an unreal image. [Scot. wraith, warth; probably originally, a guardian angel, from Icel. vörthr a warden, guardian, akin to E. ward. See Ward a guard.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
So many worlds, so much to do 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, So many worlds, so much to do, in In Memoriam A.H.H. (1850), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #70950, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tennyson-in-memoriam/section-71.html, id L18431.
Form and metre
So many worlds, so much to do is 16 lines in 4 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBA. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 19% 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 ABBA doA · beB · theeB · trueA
- 2 ABBA foresawA · wreathB · deathB · lawA
- 3 ABBA trodA · weedsB · deedsB · godA
- 4 ABBA fameA · exultsB · resultsB · nameA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| So many worlds, so much to do, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| So little done, such things to be, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| How know I what had need of thee, | 8 | ········ |
| For thou wert strong as thou wert true? | 8 | ········ |
| The fame is quench’d that I foresaw, | 8 | ·······/ |
| The head hath miss’d an earthly wreath: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I curse not nature; no, nor death, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| For nothing is that errs from law. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| We pass: the path that each man trod | 8 | ········ |
| Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds: | 8 | ········ |
| What fame is left for human deeds | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In endless age? It rests with God. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| O hollow wraith of dying fame, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Fade wholly, while the soul exults, | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| And self-infolds the large results | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Of force that would have forged a name. | 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.