Wordsworth's Grave IV
A hundred years ere he to manhood came,Song from celestial heights had wandered down,Put off her robe of sunlight, dew and flame,And donned a modish dress to charm the Town.
Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of things;Apt at life's lore, incurious what life meant.Dextrous of hand, she struck her lute's few strings;Ignobly perfect, barrenly content.
Unflushed with ardour and unblanched with awe,Her lips in profitless derision curled,She saw with dull emotion--if she saw--The vision of the glory of the world.
The human masque she watched, with dreamless eyesIn whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shade:The stars, unkenned by her, might set and rise,Unmarked by her, the daisies bloom and fade.
The age grew sated with her sterile wit.Herself waxed weary on her loveless throne.Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it,And craved a living voice, a natural tone.
For none the less, though song was but half true,The world lay common, one abounding theme.Man joyed and wept, and fate was ever new,And love was sweet, life real, death no dream.
In sad stern verse the rugged scholar-sageBemoaned his toil unvalued, youth uncheered.His numbers wore the vesture of the age,But, 'neath it beating, the great heart was heard.
From dewy pastures, uplands sweet with thyme,A virgin breeze freshened the jaded day.It wafted Collins' lonely vesper-chime,It breathed abroad the frugal note of Gray.
It fluttered here and there, nor swept in vainThe dusty haunts where futile echoes dwell,--Then, in a cadence soft as summer rain,And sad from Auburn voiceless, drooped and fell.
It drooped and fell, and one 'neath northern skies,With southern heart, who tilled his father's field,Found Poesy a-dying, bade her riseAnd touch quick nature's hem and go forth healed.
On life's broad plain the ploughman's conquering shareUpturned the fallow lands of truth anew,And o'er the formal garden's trim parterreThe peasant's team a ruthless furrow drew.
Bright was his going forth, but clouds ere longWhelmed him; in gloom his radiance set, and thoseTwin morning stars of the new century's song,Those morning stars that sang together, rose.
In elvish speech the Dreamer told his taleOf marvellous oceans swept by fateful wings.--The Seër strayed not from earth's human pale,But the mysterious face of common things
He mirrored as the moon in Rydal MereIs mirrored, when the breathless night hangs blue:Strangely remote she seems and wondrous near,And by some nameless difference born anew.
Words in this poem 26
- thenceforth adv.
- From that time; thereafter.
- incurious a.
- Not curious or inquisitive; without care for or interest in; inattentive; careless; negligent; heedless. [L. incuriosus: cf. F. incurieux. See In- not, and Curious.]
- ignobly adv.
- In an ignoble manner; basely.
- barrenly adv.
- Unfruitfully; unproductively.
- ardour n.
- Heat, in a literal sense; as, the ardor of the sun's rays. [L. ardor, fr. ardere to burn: cf. OF. ardor, ardur, F. ardeur.]
- profitless a.
- Without profit; unprofitable.
- masque n.
- A mask; a masquerade.
- dreamless a.
- Free from, or without, dreams. Camden.
- loveless a.
- Void of love; void of tenderness or kindness. Milton. Shelton.
- unvalued a.
- Not valued; not appraised; hence, not considered; disregarded; valueless; as, an unvalued estate.
- chime n.
- The harmonious sound of bells, or of musical instruments. [OE. chimbe, prop., cymbal, OF. cymbe, cymble, in a dialectic form, chymble, F. cymbale, L. cymbalum, fr. Gr. Cymbal.]
- futile a.
- Talkative; loquacious; tattling. [L. futilis that easily pours out, that easily lets loose, vain, worthless, from the root of fundere to pour out: cf. F. futile. See Fuse, v. t.]
- dwell v. i.
- To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
- auburn a.
- Flaxen-colored. Florio. [OE. auburne blonde, OF. alborne, auborne, fr. LL. alburnus whitish, fr. L. albus white. Cf. Alburn.]
- voiceless a.
- Having no voice, utterance, or vote; silent; mute; dumb.
- poesy n.
- The art of composing poems; poetical skill or faculty; as, the heavenly gift of poesy. [F. poésie (cf. It. poesia), L. poesis, from Gr. Posy.]
- bade
- A form of the pat tense of Bid.
- parterre n.
- An ornamental and diversified arrangement of beds or plots, in which flowers are cultivated, with intervening spaces of gravel or turf for walking on. [F., fr. par on, by (L. per)+terre earth, ground, L. terra. See Terrace.]
- ruthless a.
- Having no ruth; cruel; pitiless.
- elvish a.
- Pertaining to elves; implike; mischievous; weird; also, vacant; absent in demeanor. See Elfish.
- dreamer n.
- One who dreams.
- fateful a.
- Having the power of serving or accomplishing fate.
- breathless a.
- Spent with labor or violent action; out of breath.
- strangely adv.
- As something foreign, or not one's own; in a manner adapted to something foreign and strange.
- wondrous adv.
- In a wonderful or surprising manner or degree; wonderfully. [OE. wonders, adv. (later also adj.). See Wonder, n., and cf. -wards.]
- nameless a.
- Without a name; not having been given a name; as, a nameless star.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Wordsworth's Grave IV is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of William Watson, Project Gutenberg ebook #13179; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Watson, Wordsworth's Grave IV, in The Poems of William Watson (1892–1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #13179, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/watson-poems/wordsworth-s-grave-iv.html, id L11325.
Form and metre
Wordsworth's Grave IV is 56 lines in 14 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 20% 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 ABAB cameA · downB · flameA · townB
- 2 ABAB thingsA · meantB · stringsA · contentB
- 3 ABAB aweA · curledB · sawA · worldB
- 4 ABAB eyesA · shadeB · riseA · fadeB
- 5 ABAB witA · throneB · itA · toneB
- 6 ABAB trueA · themeB · newA · dreamB
- 7 ABAB sageA · uncheeredB · ageA · heardB
- 8 ABAB thymeA · dayB · chimeA · grayB
- 9 ABAB vainA · dwellB · rainA · fellB
- 10 ABAB skiesA · fieldB · riseA · healedB
- 11 ABAB shareA · anewB · parterreA · drewB
- 12 ABAB longA · thoseB · songA · roseB
- 13 ABAB taleA · wingsB · paleA · thingsB
- 14 ABAB mereA · blueB · nearA · anewB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| A hundred years ere he to manhood came, | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
| Song from celestial heights had wandered down, | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| Put off her robe of sunlight, dew and flame, | 10 | ·····/···· |
| And donned a modish dress to charm the Town. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of things; | 10 | ·/···/···· |
| Apt at life's lore, incurious what life meant. | 11 | ····˘/˘˘··· |
| Dextrous of hand, she struck her lute's few strings; | 10 | /˘········ |
| Ignobly perfect, barrenly content. | 10 | ˘/˘/·/˘˘˘/ |
| Unflushed with ardour and unblanched with awe, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Her lips in profitless derision curled, | 10 | ···/˘˘˘/˘· |
| She saw with dull emotion--if she saw-- | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| The vision of the glory of the world. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| The human masque she watched, with dreamless eyes | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| In whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shade: | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| The stars, unkenned by her, might set and rise, | 10 | ·········· |
| Unmarked by her, the daisies bloom and fade. | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| The age grew sated with her sterile wit. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Herself waxed weary on her loveless throne. | 10 | ˘/·/˘··/˘· |
| Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it, | 10 | ·········· |
| And craved a living voice, a natural tone. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| For none the less, though song was but half true, | 10 | ·········· |
| The world lay common, one abounding theme. | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| Man joyed and wept, and fate was ever new, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And love was sweet, life real, death no dream. | 9 | ········· |
| In sad stern verse the rugged scholar-sage | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Bemoaned his toil unvalued, youth uncheered. | 10 | ˘/··˘/˘··· |
| His numbers wore the vesture of the age, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| But, 'neath it beating, the great heart was heard. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| From dewy pastures, uplands sweet with thyme, | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘··· |
| A virgin breeze freshened the jaded day. | 10 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘· |
| It wafted Collins' lonely vesper-chime, | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘/˘· |
| It breathed abroad the frugal note of Gray. | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| It fluttered here and there, nor swept in vain | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The dusty haunts where futile echoes dwell,-- | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Then, in a cadence soft as summer rain, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| And sad from Auburn voiceless, drooped and fell. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| It drooped and fell, and one 'neath northern skies, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| With southern heart, who tilled his father's field, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Found Poesy a-dying, bade her rise | 10 | ·/˘˘·/˘··· |
| And touch quick nature's hem and go forth healed. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| On life's broad plain the ploughman's conquering share | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Upturned the fallow lands of truth anew, | 10 | ˘/·/····˘/ |
| And o'er the formal garden's trim parterre | 10 | ···/˘/˘·˘/ |
| The peasant's team a ruthless furrow drew. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Bright was his going forth, but clouds ere long | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Whelmed him; in gloom his radiance set, and those | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Twin morning stars of the new century's song, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Those morning stars that sang together, rose. | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘· |
| In elvish speech the Dreamer told his tale | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Of marvellous oceans swept by fateful wings.-- | 11 | ····/˘··/˘· |
| The Seër strayed not from earth's human pale, | 10 | ···˘···/˘· |
| But the mysterious face of common things | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| He mirrored as the moon in Rydal Mere | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Is mirrored, when the breathless night hangs blue: | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Strangely remote she seems and wondrous near, | 10 | /˘˘/···/˘· |
| And by some nameless difference born anew. | 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.