Pensive on Her Dead Gazing
Pensive on her dead gazing I heard the Mother of All,Desperate on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battlefields gazing,(As the last gun ceased, but the scent of the powder-smoke linger’d,)As she call’d to her earth with mournful voice while she stalk’d,Absorb them well O my earth, she cried, I charge you lose not mysons, lose not an atom,And you streams absorb them well, taking their dear blood,And you local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable,And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my rivers’ depths,And you mountain sides, and the woods where my dear children’sblood trickling redden’d,And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees,My dead absorb or South or North--my young men’s bodies absorb,and their precious precious blood,Which holding in trust for me faithfully back again give me many ayear hence,In unseen essence and odor of surface and grass, centuries hence,In blowing airs from the fields back again give me my darlings, givemy immortal heroes,Exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not anatom be lost,O years and graves! O air and soil! O my dead, an aroma sweet!Exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence.
Words in this poem
- desperate a.
- Without hope; given to despair; hopeless. [L. desperatus, p. p. of desperare. See Despair, and cf. Desperado.]
- bequeath v. t.
- To give or leave by will; to give by testament; -- said especially of personal property. [OE. biquethen, AS. becwe to say, affirm, bequeath; pref. be- + cwe to say, speak. See Quoth.]
- unseen a.
- Not seen or discovered.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Pensive on Her Dead Gazing 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, Pensive on Her Dead Gazing, in Leaves of Grass (1855–1892), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1322, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/whitman-leaves/pensive-on-her-dead-gazing.html, id L04065.
Form and metre
Pensive on Her Dead Gazing is 23 lines in a single stanza. 77% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 12.7 syllables. 6 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 22% 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------A-BB-----B all · gazing · linger'dA · stalk'd · my · atom · bloodA · impalpable · depths · children's · redden'd · trees · absorb · bloodA · a · henceB · henceB · give · heroes · an · lost · sweet · henceB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Pensive on her dead gazing I heard the Mother of All, | 14 | /˘···/˘···/˘·· |
| Desperate on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battlefields gazing, | 19 | /˘···/˘···/˘˘·/˘·/˘ |
| (As the last gun ceased, but the scent of the powder-smoke linger’d,) | 15 | ··········/˘·/˘ |
| As she call’d to her earth with mournful voice while she stalk’d, | 13 | ·······/˘···· |
| Absorb them well O my earth, she cried, I charge you lose not my | 15 | ˘/············· |
| sons, lose not an atom, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| And you streams absorb them well, taking their dear blood, | 12 | ···˘/··/˘··· |
| And you local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable, | 18 | ··/˘········/˘˘/˘˘ |
| And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my rivers’ depths, | 16 | ···/˘˘·······/˘· |
| And you mountain sides, and the woods where my dear children’s | 13 | ··/˘·······/˘ |
| blood trickling redden’d, | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, | 15 | ········˘/··/˘· |
| My dead absorb or South or North--my young men’s bodies absorb, | 15 | ··˘/·······/˘˘/ |
| and their precious precious blood, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Which holding in trust for me faithfully back again give me many a | 18 | ·/˘····/˘˘·˘/··/˘· |
| year hence, | 2 | ·· |
| In unseen essence and odor of surface and grass, centuries hence, | 17 | ·˘//˘·/˘·/˘··/˘˘· |
| In blowing airs from the fields back again give me my darlings, give | 16 | ·/˘·····˘/···/˘· |
| my immortal heroes, | 6 | ·˘/˘/˘ |
| Exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not an | 15 | ˘/··/˘˘········ |
| atom be lost, | 4 | /˘·· |
| O years and graves! O air and soil! O my dead, an aroma sweet! | 16 | ············˘/˘· |
| Exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence. | 14 | ˘/·˘/˘˘···/˘˘· |
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.