Liberty

Edward Thomas (1878–1917) · 1917

iambic pentameter · 27 lines · from Poems

THE last light has gone out of the world, exceptThis moonlight lying on the grass like frostBeyond the brink of the tall elm's shadowIt is as if everything else had sleptMany an age, unforgotten and lostThe men that were, the things done, long ago,All I have thought; and but the moon and ILive yet and here stand idle over the graveWhere all is buried. Both have libertyTo dream what we could do if we were freeTo do some thing we had desired long,The moon and I. There's none less free than whoDoes nothing and has nothing else to do,Being free only for what is not to his mind,And nothing is to his mind. If every hourLike this one passing that I have spent amongThe wiser others when I have forgotTo wonder whether I was free or not,Were piled before me, and not lost behind,And I could take and carry them awayI should be rich; or if I had the powerTo wipe out every one and not againRegret, I should be rich to be so poor.And yet I still am half in love with pain,With what is imperfect, with both tears and mirth,With things that have an end, with life and earth,And this moon that leaves me dark within the door.

Words in this poem

brink n.
The edge, margin, or border of a steep place, as of a precipice; a bank or edge, as of a river or pit; a verge; a border; as, the brink of a chasm. Also Fig. [Dan. brink edge, verge; akin to Sw. brink declivity, hill, Icel. brekka; cf. LG. brink a grassy hill, W. bryn hill, bryncyn hillock.]
piled a.
Having a pile or point; pointed. [From 2d Pile.]

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

About this text

Liberty is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #22423; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Edward Thomas, Liberty, in Poems (1917), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #22423, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/thomas-edward-poems/liberty.html, id L08182.

Form and metre

Liberty is 27 lines in a single stanza. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 83%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.3 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 59% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other poems in iambic pentameter.

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 ABCABCD--D-EEFG-HHF-GI-IJJ- exceptA · frostB · shadowC · sleptA · lostB · agoC · iD · grave · liberty · freeD · long · whoE · doE · mindF · hourG · among · forgotH · notH · behindF · away · powerG · againI · poor · painI · mirthJ · earthJ · door
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 pentameter. How this is done.

LineSyl.Stress
THE last light has gone out of the world, except11···········
This moonlight lying on the grass like frost10·/·/˘·····
Beyond the brink of the tall elm's shadow10········/·
It is as if everything else had slept10····/˘····
Many an age, unforgotten and lost10/˘········
The men that were, the things done, long ago,10········˘/
All I have thought; and but the moon and I10··········
Live yet and here stand idle over the grave10·····/˘···
Where all is buried. Both have liberty10···/˘··/˘˘
To dream what we could do if we were free10··········
To do some thing we had desired long,10······˘/˘·
The moon and I. There's none less free than who10··········
Does nothing and has nothing else to do,10·/˘··/˘···
Being free only for what is not to his mind,11/·/˘·······
And nothing is to his mind. If every hour11·/˘·····/˘/
Like this one passing that I have spent among11···/˘······
The wiser others when I have forgot10·/˘/˘···˘/
To wonder whether I was free or not,10·/˘·······
Were piled before me, and not lost behind,10··········
And I could take and carry them away10·····/˘·˘/
I should be rich; or if I had the power11·········/˘
To wipe out every one and not again10···/˘···˘/
Regret, I should be rich to be so poor.10˘/········
And yet I still am half in love with pain,10··········
With what is imperfect, with both tears and mirth,11···˘/˘·····
With things that have an end, with life and earth,10··········
And this moon that leaves me dark within the door.11···········

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.

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