Not Quite the Same
Not quite the same the spring-time seems to me,Since that sad season when in separate waysOur paths diverged. There are no more such daysAs dawned for us in that lost time when weDwelt in the realm of dreams, illusive dreams;Spring may be just as fair now, but it seemsNot quite the same.
Not quite the same is life, since we two parted,Knowing it best to go our ways alone.Fair measures of success we both have known,And pleasant hours, and yet something departedWhich gold, nor fame, nor anything we winCan all replace. And either life has beenNot quite the same.
Love is not quite the same, although each heartHas formed new ties that are both sweet and true,But that wild rapture, which of old we knew,Seems to have been a something set apartWith that lost dream. There is no passion, now,Mixed with this later love, which seems, somehow,Not quite the same.
Not quite the same am I. My inner beingReasons and knows that all is for the best.Yet vague regrets stir always in my breast,As my soul's eyes turn sadly backward, seeingThe vanished self that evermore must be,This side of what we call eternity,Not quite the same.
Words in this poem
- illusive a.
- Deceiving by false show; deceitful; deceptive; false; illusory; unreal. [See Illude.]
- somehow adv.
- In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
- sadly adv.
- Wearily; heavily; firmly.
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Not Quite the Same 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, Not Quite the Same, in Poems of Passion (1883), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16776, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wilcox-passion/not-quite-the-same.html, id L22164.
Form and metre
Not Quite the Same is 28 lines in 4 stanzas of 7 lines each. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%).
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 ABBACC- meA · waysB · daysB · weA · dreamsC · seemsC · same
- 2 ABBACC- partedA · aloneB · knownB · departedA · winC · beenC · same
- 3 ABBACC- heartA · trueB · knewB · apartA · nowC · somehowC · same
- 4 ABBA--- beingA · bestB · breastB · seeingA · be · eternity · same
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Not quite the same the spring-time seems to me, | 10 | ·········· |
| Since that sad season when in separate ways | 11 | ···/˘··/˘·· |
| Our paths diverged. There are no more such days | 10 | /·˘/······ |
| As dawned for us in that lost time when we | 10 | ·········· |
| Dwelt in the realm of dreams, illusive dreams; | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Spring may be just as fair now, but it seems | 10 | ·········· |
| Not quite the same. | 4 | ···· |
| Not quite the same is life, since we two parted, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Knowing it best to go our ways alone. | 10 | /····/˘·˘/ |
| Fair measures of success we both have known, | 10 | ·/˘·˘/···· |
| And pleasant hours, and yet something departed | 11 | ·/˘/··/˘˘/˘ |
| Which gold, nor fame, nor anything we win | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Can all replace. And either life has been | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| Not quite the same. | 4 | ···· |
| Love is not quite the same, although each heart | 10 | ·········· |
| Has formed new ties that are both sweet and true, | 10 | ·········· |
| But that wild rapture, which of old we knew, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Seems to have been a something set apart | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| With that lost dream. There is no passion, now, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Mixed with this later love, which seems, somehow, | 10 | ···/˘···/· |
| Not quite the same. | 4 | ···· |
| Not quite the same am I. My inner being | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Reasons and knows that all is for the best. | 10 | /˘········ |
| Yet vague regrets stir always in my breast, | 10 | ··˘/·/···· |
| As my soul's eyes turn sadly backward, seeing | 11 | ·····/˘/˘/˘ |
| The vanished self that evermore must be, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| This side of what we call eternity, | 10 | ······˘/˘˘ |
| Not quite the same. | 4 | ···· |
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.