Part I, Section XX
Puzzled and frightened, wondering more and more,The mother heard, but did not comprehend;"So early dallying with forbidden lore!Oh, what will chance, and wherein will it end?My child! my child!" she caught him to her breast,"Oh, let me kiss these wildering thoughts to rest!
"They cannot come from God, who freely givesAll that we need to have, or ought to know;Beware, my son! some evil influence strivesTo grieve thy parents, and to work thee woe;Alas! the vision I misunderstood!It could not be an angel fair and good."
And then, in low and tremulous tones, she toldThe story of his birth-night; the boy's eyes,As the wild tale went on, were bright and bold,With a weird look that did not seem surprise:"Perhaps," he said, "this lady and her elvesWill one day come, and take me to themselves."
"And wouldst thou leave us?" "Dearest mother, no!Hush! I will check these thoughts that give thee pain;Or, if they flow, as they perchance must flow,At least I will not utter them again;Hark! didst thou hear a voice like many streams?Mother! it is the spirit of my dreams!"
Words in this poem
- wildering n.
- A plant growing in a state of nature; especially, one which has run wild, or escaped from cultivation.
- ought p. p.
- Was or were under obligation to pay; owed. [Orig. the preterit of the verb to owe. OE. oughte, aughte, ahte, AS. ahte. sq. root110. See Owe.]
- beware v. t.
- To avoid; to take care of; to have a care for.
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- didst
- , the 2d pers. sing. imp. of Do.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Part I, Section XX 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, Part I, Section XX, in Poems (1860–1867), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #845, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/timrod-poems/part-i-section-xx.html, id L18634.
Form and metre
Part I, Section XX is 24 lines in 4 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABCC. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 17% 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 ABABCC moreA · comprehendB · loreA · endB · breastC · restC
- 2 ABABCC givesA · knowB · strivesA · woeB · misunderstoodC · goodC
- 3 ABABCC toldA · eyesB · boldA · surpriseB · elvesC · themselvesC
- 4 ABABCC noA · painB · flowA · againB · streamsC · dreamsC
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.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Puzzled and frightened, wondering more and more, | 10 | /˘·/˘/˘··· |
| The mother heard, but did not comprehend; | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| "So early dallying with forbidden lore! | 10 | ·/˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| Oh, what will chance, and wherein will it end? | 10 | ·········· |
| My child! my child!" she caught him to her breast, | 10 | ·········· |
| "Oh, let me kiss these wildering thoughts to rest! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| "They cannot come from God, who freely gives | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| All that we need to have, or ought to know; | 10 | ·········· |
| Beware, my son! some evil influence strives | 10 | ˘/···//˘˘· |
| To grieve thy parents, and to work thee woe; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Alas! the vision I misunderstood! | 10 | ˘/·/˘··˘˘/ |
| It could not be an angel fair and good." | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And then, in low and tremulous tones, she told | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| The story of his birth-night; the boy's eyes, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| As the wild tale went on, were bright and bold, | 10 | ·········· |
| With a weird look that did not seem surprise: | 10 | ········˘/ |
| "Perhaps," he said, "this lady and her elves | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| Will one day come, and take me to themselves." | 10 | ········˘/ |
| "And wouldst thou leave us?" "Dearest mother, no! | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Hush! I will check these thoughts that give thee pain; | 10 | ·········· |
| Or, if they flow, as they perchance must flow, | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| At least I will not utter them again; | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Hark! didst thou hear a voice like many streams? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Mother! it is the spirit of my dreams!" | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
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.