Carolina
The despot treads thy sacred sands,Thy pines give shelter to his bands,Thy sons stand by with idle hands,Carolina!He breathes at ease thy airs of balm,He scorns the lances of thy palm;Oh! who shall break thy craven calm,Carolina!Thy ancient fame is growing dim,A spot is on thy garment's rim;Give to the winds thy battle hymn,Carolina!
Call on thy children of the hill,Wake swamp and river, coast and rill,Rouse all thy strength and all thy skill,Carolina!Cite wealth and science, trade and art,Touch with thy fire the cautious mart,And pour thee through the people's heart,Carolina!Till even the coward spurns his fears,And all thy fields and fens and meresShall bristle like thy palm with spears,Carolina!
Hold up the glories of thy dead;Say how thy elder children bled,And point to Eutaw's battle-bed,Carolina!Tell how the patriot's soul was tried,And what his dauntless breast defied;How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died,Carolina!Cry! till thy summons, heard at last,Shall fall like Marion's bugle-blastRe-echoed from the haunted Past,Carolina!
I hear a murmur as of wavesThat grope their way through sunless caves,Like bodies struggling in their graves,Carolina!And now it deepens; slow and grandIt swells, as, rolling to the land,An ocean broke upon thy strand,Carolina!Shout! let it reach the startled Huns!And roar with all thy festal guns!It is the answer of thy sons,Carolina!
They will not wait to hear thee call;From Sachem's Head to Sumter's wallResounds the voice of hut and hall,Carolina!No! thou hast not a stain, they say,Or none save what the battle-dayShall wash in seas of blood away,Carolina!Thy skirts indeed the foe may part,Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart,They shall not touch thy noble heart,Carolina!
Ere thou shalt own the tyrant's thrallTen times ten thousand men must fall;Thy corpse may hearken to his call,Carolina!When, by thy bier, in mournful throngsThe women chant thy mortal wrongs,'T will be their own funereal songs,Carolina!From thy dead breast by ruffians trodNo helpless child shall look to God;All shall be safe beneath thy sod,Carolina!
Girt with such wills to do and bear,Assured in right, and mailed in prayer,Thou wilt not bow thee to despair,Carolina!Throw thy bold banner to the breeze!Front with thy ranks the threatening seasLike thine own proud armorial trees,Carolina!Fling down thy gauntlet to the Huns,And roar the challenge from thy guns;Then leave the future to thy sons,Carolina!
Words in this poem 17
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- craven v. t.
- To make recreant, weak, spiritless, or cowardly.
- rill n.
- A very small brook; a streamlet. [Cf. LG. rille a small channel or brook, a furrow, a chamfer, OE. rigol a small brook, F. rigole a trench or furrow for water, W. rhill a row, rhigol a little di]
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- mart v. t.
- To buy or sell in, or as in, a mart.
- dauntless a.
- Incapable of being daunted; undaunted; bold; fearless; intrepid.
- haunted a.
- Inhabited by, or subject to the visits of, apparitions; frequented by a ghost.
- sunless a.
- Destitute or deprived of the sun or its rays; shaded; shadowed.
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- festal a.
- Of or pertaining to a holiday or a feast; joyous; festive. [L. festum holiday, feast. See feast.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- shalt
- 2d per. sing. of Shall.
- corpse n.
- A human body in general, whether living or dead; -- sometimes contemptuosly. [OF. cors (sometimes written corps), F. corps, L. corpus; akin to AS. hrif womb. See Midriff, and cf. Corse, Corselet, Corps, Cuerpo.]
- bier n.
- A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
- girt v. t.
- To gird; to encircle; to invest by means of a girdle; to measure the girth of; as, to girt a tree. [From Girt, n., cf. Girth, v.]
- mailed a.
- Protected by an external coat, or covering, of scales or plates.
- gauntlet n.
- A glove of such material that it defends the hand from wounds. [F. gantelet, dim. of gant glove, LL. wantus, of Teutonic origin; cf. D. want, Sw. & Dan. vante, Icel. vöttr, for vantr.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Carolina is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of Henry Timrod; with Memoir, Project Gutenberg ebook #845; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Timrod, Carolina, in Poems (1860–1867), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #845, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/timrod-poems/carolina.html, id L10510.
Form and metre
Carolina is 84 lines in 7 stanzas of 12 lines each. Every stanza rhymes AAABCCCBDDDB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.2 syllables. 21 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 12% 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 AAABCCCBDDDB sandsA · bandsA · handsA · carolinaB · balmC · palmC · calmC · carolinaB · dimD · rimD · hymnD · carolinaB
- 2 AAABCCCBDDDB hillA · rillA · skillA · carolinaB · artC · martC · heartC · carolinaB · fearsD · meresD · spearsD · carolinaB
- 3 AAABCCCBDDDB deadA · bledA · bedA · carolinaB · triedC · defiedC · diedC · carolinaB · lastD · blastD · pastD · carolinaB
- 4 AAABCCCBDDDB wavesA · cavesA · gravesA · carolinaB · grandC · landC · strandC · carolinaB · hunsD · gunsD · sonsD · carolinaB
- 5 AAABCCCBDDDB callA · wallA · hallA · carolinaB · sayC · dayC · awayC · carolinaB · partD · dartD · heartD · carolinaB
- 6 AAABCCCBDDDB thrallA · fallA · callA · carolinaB · throngsC · wrongsC · songsC · carolinaB · trodD · godD · sodD · carolinaB
- 7 AAABCCCBDDDB bearA · prayerA · despairA · carolinaB · breezeC · seasC · treesC · carolinaB · hunsD · gunsD · sonsD · carolinaB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| The despot treads thy sacred sands, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| Thy pines give shelter to his bands, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thy sons stand by with idle hands, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| He breathes at ease thy airs of balm, | 8 | ········ |
| He scorns the lances of thy palm; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Oh! who shall break thy craven calm, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Thy ancient fame is growing dim, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| A spot is on thy garment's rim; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Give to the winds thy battle hymn, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Call on thy children of the hill, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Wake swamp and river, coast and rill, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Rouse all thy strength and all thy skill, | 8 | ········ |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Cite wealth and science, trade and art, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Touch with thy fire the cautious mart, | 9 | ···/˘·/˘· |
| And pour thee through the people's heart, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Till even the coward spurns his fears, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘··· |
| And all thy fields and fens and meres | 8 | ········ |
| Shall bristle like thy palm with spears, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Hold up the glories of thy dead; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Say how thy elder children bled, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And point to Eutaw's battle-bed, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Tell how the patriot's soul was tried, | 9 | ···/˘˘··· |
| And what his dauntless breast defied; | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died, | 9 | ·/˘·˘·/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Cry! till thy summons, heard at last, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Shall fall like Marion's bugle-blast | 9 | ···/˘˘/˘· |
| Re-echoed from the haunted Past, | 9 | ·/˘˘··/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| I hear a murmur as of waves | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That grope their way through sunless caves, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Like bodies struggling in their graves, | 9 | ·/˘/˘˘··· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| And now it deepens; slow and grand | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| It swells, as, rolling to the land, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An ocean broke upon thy strand, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Shout! let it reach the startled Huns! | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| And roar with all thy festal guns! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| It is the answer of thy sons, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| They will not wait to hear thee call; | 8 | ········ |
| From Sachem's Head to Sumter's wall | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Resounds the voice of hut and hall, | 8 | ·/······ |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| No! thou hast not a stain, they say, | 8 | ········ |
| Or none save what the battle-day | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Shall wash in seas of blood away, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Thy skirts indeed the foe may part, | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart, | 9 | ····˘···· |
| They shall not touch thy noble heart, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Ere thou shalt own the tyrant's thrall | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Ten times ten thousand men must fall; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thy corpse may hearken to his call, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| When, by thy bier, in mournful throngs | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The women chant thy mortal wrongs, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| 'T will be their own funereal songs, | 10 | ·····˘/˘˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| From thy dead breast by ruffians trod | 8 | ········ |
| No helpless child shall look to God; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| All shall be safe beneath thy sod, | 8 | ········ |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Girt with such wills to do and bear, | 8 | ········ |
| Assured in right, and mailed in prayer, | 10 | ˘/˘····˘·· |
| Thou wilt not bow thee to despair, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Throw thy bold banner to the breeze! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Front with thy ranks the threatening seas | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| Like thine own proud armorial trees, | 9 | ····˘/˘˘· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
| Fling down thy gauntlet to the Huns, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And roar the challenge from thy guns; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Then leave the future to thy sons, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Carolina! | 4 | ·˘/˘ |
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.