Response
I said this morning, as I leaned and threwMy shutters open to the Spring's surprise,"Tell me, O Earth, how is it that in youYear after year the same fresh feelings rise?How do you keep your young exultant glee?No more those sweet emotions come to me.
"I note through all your fissures how the tideOf healthful life goes leaping as of old;Your royal dawns retain their pomp and pride;Your sunsets lose no atom of their gold.How can this wonder be?" My soul's fine earLeaned, listening, till a small voice answered near:
"My days lapse never over into night;My nights encroach not on the rights of dawn.I rush not breathless after some delight;I waste no grief for any pleasure gone.My July noons burn not the entire year.Heart, hearken well!" "Yes, yes; go on; I hear."
"I do not strive to make my sunsets' goldPave all the dim and distant realms of space.I do not bid my crimson dawns unfoldTo lend the midnight a fictitious grace.I break no law, for all God's laws are good.Heart, hast thou heard?" "Yes, yes; and understood."
Words in this poem
- exultant a.
- Inclined to exult; characterized by, or expressing, exultation; rejoicing triumphantly. [L. exsultans, exsultantis, p. pr. of exsultare. See Exult.]
- glee n.
- Music; minstrelsy; entertainment.
- breathless a.
- Spent with labor or violent action; out of breath.
- pave n.
- The pavement. Nymphe du pavé ([A low euphemism.] [F., from paver to pave. See Pave.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Response 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, Response, in Poems of Passion (1883), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16776, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wilcox-passion/response.html, id L22188.
Form and metre
Response is 24 lines in 4 stanzas of 6 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABABCC. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 91%).
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 ABABCC threwA · surpriseB · youA · riseB · gleeC · meC
- 2 ABABCC tideA · oldB · prideA · goldB · earC · nearC
- 3 ABABCC nightA · dawnB · delightA · goneB · yearC · hearC
- 4 ABABCC goldA · spaceB · unfoldA · graceB · goodC · understoodC
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 said this morning, as I leaned and threw | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| My shutters open to the Spring's surprise, | 10 | ·/˘/˘···˘/ |
| "Tell me, O Earth, how is it that in you | 10 | ·········· |
| Year after year the same fresh feelings rise? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| How do you keep your young exultant glee? | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| No more those sweet emotions come to me. | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| "I note through all your fissures how the tide | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of healthful life goes leaping as of old; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Your royal dawns retain their pomp and pride; | 10 | ·/˘·˘/···· |
| Your sunsets lose no atom of their gold. | 10 | ·/···/˘··· |
| How can this wonder be?" My soul's fine ear | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Leaned, listening, till a small voice answered near: | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| "My days lapse never over into night; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| My nights encroach not on the rights of dawn. | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| I rush not breathless after some delight; | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| I waste no grief for any pleasure gone. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| My July noons burn not the entire year. | 10 | ··/····˘/· |
| Heart, hearken well!" "Yes, yes; go on; I hear." | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| "I do not strive to make my sunsets' gold | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Pave all the dim and distant realms of space. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| I do not bid my crimson dawns unfold | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| To lend the midnight a fictitious grace. | 10 | ···/··˘/˘· |
| I break no law, for all God's laws are good. | 10 | ·········· |
| Heart, hast thou heard?" "Yes, yes; and understood." | 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.