Laurel · Ella Wheeler Wilcox · Poems of Passion

Desolation

Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850–1919) · 1883

iambic pentameter · ABBA · 20 lines · from Poems of Passion

I think that the bitterest sorrow or painOf love unrequited, or cold death's woe,Is sweet compared to that hour when we knowThat some grand passion is on the wane;

When we see that the glory and glow and graceWhich lent a splendor to night and dayAre surely fading, and showing the grayAnd dull groundwork of the commonplace;

When fond expressions on dull ears fall,When the hands clasp calmly without one thrill,When we cannot muster by force of willThe old emotions that came at call;

When the dream has vanished we fain would keep,When the heart, like a watch, runs out of gear,And all the savor goes out of the year,Oh, then is the time--if we can--to weep!

But no tears soften this dull, pale woe;We must sit and face it with dry, sad eyes.If we seek to hold it, the swifter joy flies--We can only be passive, and let it go.

Words in this poem

fading n.: An Irish dance; also, the burden of a song.
groundwork n.: That which forms the foundation or support of anything; the basis; the essential or fundamental part; first principle.
muster n.: Something shown for imitation; a pattern. [OE. moustre, OF. mostre, moustre, F. montre, LL. monstra. See Muster, v. t.]
fain v. t.: To be glad ; to wish or desire.
swifter v. t.: To tighten, as slack standing rigging, by bringing the opposite shrouds nearer.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

Desolation is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of Passion, Project Gutenberg ebook #16776; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Desolation, in Poems of Passion (1883), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16776, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wilcox-passion/desolation.html, id L22160.

Form and metre

Desolation is 20 lines in 5 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBA. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 72%).

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 ABBA pain^A · woe^B · know^B · wane^A
2 ABBA grace^A · day^B · gray^B · commonplace^A
3 ABBA fall^A · thrill^B · will^B · call^A
4 ABBA keep^A · gear^B · year^B · weep^A
5 ABBA woe^A · eyes^B · flies^B · go^A

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
I think that the bitterest sorrow or pain	10	····/˘/˘··
Of love unrequited, or cold death's woe,	10	···˘/˘····
Is sweet compared to that hour when we know	10	··˘/··/···
That some grand passion is on the wane;	9	···/˘····
When we see that the glory and glow and grace	11	·····/˘····
Which lent a splendor to night and day	9	···/˘····
Are surely fading, and showing the gray	10	·/˘/˘·/˘··
And dull groundwork of the commonplace;	9	··/···/˘·
When fond expressions on dull ears fall,	9	··˘/˘····
When the hands clasp calmly without one thrill,	10	····/˘····
When we cannot muster by force of will	10	··/˘/˘····
The old emotions that came at call;	9	··˘/˘····
When the dream has vanished we fain would keep,	10	····/˘····
When the heart, like a watch, runs out of gear,	10	··········
And all the savor goes out of the year,	10	···/˘·····
Oh, then is the time--if we can--to weep!	10	··········
But no tears soften this dull, pale woe;	9	···/˘····
We must sit and face it with dry, sad eyes.	10	··········
If we seek to hold it, the swifter joy flies--	11	·······/˘··
We can only be passive, and let it go.	11	··/˘·/˘····

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.

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