I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing
I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous of dark green,And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,But I wonder’d how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone therewithout its friend near, for I knew I could not,And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it andtwined around it a little moss,And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room,It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly love;For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisianasolitary in a wide in a wide flat space,Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near,I know very well I could not.
Words in this poem
- unbending a.
- Not bending; not suffering flexure; not yielding to pressure; stiff; -- applied to material things. [In senses 1, 2, and 3, pref. un- not + bending; in sense 4, properly p. pr. unbend.]
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- remind v. t.
- To put (one) in mind of something; to bring to the remembrance of; to bring to the notice or consideration of (a person).
- curious a.
- Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing is in the public domain. This text is taken from Leaves of Grass, Project Gutenberg ebook #1322; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Walt Whitman, I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing, in Leaves of Grass (1855–1892), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1322, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/whitman-leaves/i-saw-in-louisiana-a-live-oak-growing.html, id L03875.
Form and metre
I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing is 16 lines in a single verse paragraph. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. 83% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 14.6 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 19% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 -----A---------A growing · branches · green · myself · there · notA · and · moss · room · friends · them · love · louisiana · space · near · notA
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. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing, | 13 | ···˘·˘/˘···/˘ |
| All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches, | 14 | ·˘/·········/˘ |
| Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous of dark green, | 18 | ··/˘˘/˘···/˘˘/˘··· |
| And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself, | 15 | ·····/˘/˘·····/ |
| But I wonder’d how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there | 17 | ··/˘···/˘/˘·/˘˘/· |
| without its friend near, for I knew I could not, | 11 | ··········· |
| And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it and | 18 | ········/˘/˘······ |
| twined around it a little moss, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room, | 15 | ···˘/·········· |
| It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends, | 15 | ···/˘·˘/······· |
| (For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,) | 15 | ··˘//˘···/˘···· |
| Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly love; | 20 | ··˘/···/˘˘/˘·····/˘· |
| For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana | 17 | ········/˘··˘·˘/˘ |
| solitary in a wide in a wide flat space, | 12 | /˘·˘········ |
| Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near, | 17 | /˘˘/˘·········/˘· |
| I know very well I could not. | 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.