The Common Lot
It is a common fate--a woman's lot--To waste on one the riches of her soul,Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannotRepay the interest, and much less the whole.
As I look up into your eyes and waitFor some response to my fond gaze and touch,It seems to me there is no sadder fateThan to be doomed to loving overmuch.
Are you not kind? Ah, yes, so very kind--So thoughtful of my comfort, and so true.Yes, yes, dear heart; but I, not being blind,Know that I am not loved as I love you.
One tenderer word, a little longer kiss,Will fill my soul with music and with song;And if you seem abstracted, or I missThe heart-tone from your voice, my world goes wrong.
And oftentimes you think me childish--weak--When at some thoughtless word the tears will start;You cannot understand how aught you speakHas power to stir the depths of my poor heart.
I cannot help it, dear,--I wish I could,Or feign indifference where I now adore;For if I seemed to love you less you would,Manlike, I have no doubt, love me the more.
'Tis a sad gift, that much applauded thing,A constant heart; for fact doth daily proveThat constancy finds oft a cruel sting,While fickle natures win the deeper love.
Words in this poem
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- oftentimes adv.
- Frequently; often; many times. [Often + time. Cf. -wards.]
- aught n.
- Property; possession. [AS. , fr. agan to own, p. p. ahte.]
- adore v. t.
- To worship with profound reverence; to pay divine honors to; to honor as deity or as divine. [OE. aouren, anouren, adoren, OF. aorer, adorer, F. adorer, fr. L. adorare; ad + orare to speak, pray, os, oris, mouth. In OE. confused with honor, the French pr]
- manlike a.
- Like man, or like a man, in form or nature; having the qualities of a man, esp. the nobler qualities; manly. [Man + like. Cf. Manly.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Common Lot 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, The Common Lot, in Poems of Passion (1883), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16776, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wilcox-passion/the-common-lot.html, id L22141.
Form and metre
The Common Lot is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%).
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 ABAB lotA · soulB · cannotA · wholeB
- 2 ABAB waitA · touchB · fateA · overmuchB
- 3 ABAB kindA · trueB · blindA · youB
- 4 ABAB kissA · songB · missA · wrongB
- 5 ABAB weakA · startB · speakA · heartB
- 6 ABAB couldA · adoreB · wouldA · moreB
- 7 ABAB thingA · proveB · stingA · loveB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| It is a common fate--a woman's lot-- | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| To waste on one the riches of her soul, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Repay the interest, and much less the whole. | 10 | ˘/·/˘····· |
| As I look up into your eyes and wait | 10 | ·········· |
| For some response to my fond gaze and touch, | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| It seems to me there is no sadder fate | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Than to be doomed to loving overmuch. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘˘ |
| Are you not kind? Ah, yes, so very kind-- | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| So thoughtful of my comfort, and so true. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Yes, yes, dear heart; but I, not being blind, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Know that I am not loved as I love you. | 10 | ·········· |
| One tenderer word, a little longer kiss, | 11 | ······/˘/˘· |
| Will fill my soul with music and with song; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And if you seem abstracted, or I miss | 10 | ····/·˘··· |
| The heart-tone from your voice, my world goes wrong. | 10 | ·········· |
| And oftentimes you think me childish--weak-- | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| When at some thoughtless word the tears will start; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| You cannot understand how aught you speak | 10 | ·/˘·˘/···· |
| Has power to stir the depths of my poor heart. | 10 | ·/········ |
| I cannot help it, dear,--I wish I could, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Or feign indifference where I now adore; | 10 | ··˘/˘···˘/ |
| For if I seemed to love you less you would, | 10 | ·········· |
| Manlike, I have no doubt, love me the more. | 10 | /˘········ |
| 'Tis a sad gift, that much applauded thing, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| A constant heart; for fact doth daily prove | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| That constancy finds oft a cruel sting, | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘· |
| While fickle natures win the deeper love. | 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.