History
Leaves stir this way then thaton the baked asphalt, the wheelsof motor cars rush over them,--gas smells mingle with leaf smells.
Oh, Sunday, day of worship!!!
The steps to the museum are high.Worshippers pass in and out.Nobody comes here today.I come here to mingle faiance dugfrom the tomb, turquoise colorednecklaces and belched wind from thestomach; delicately veined basinsof agate, cracked and discolored andthe stink of stale urine!
Enter! Elbow in at the door.Men? Women?Simpering, clay fetish-faces countingthrough the turnstile.Ah!
This sarcophagus contained the bodyof Uresh-Nai, priestess to the goddess Mut,Mother of All--
Run your finger against this edge!--here went the chisel!--and thinkof an arrogance endured six thousand yearswithout a flaw!
But love is an oil to embalm the body.Love is a packet of spices, a strongsmelling liquid to be squirted intothe thigh. No?Love rubbed on a bald head will makehair--and after? Love isa lice comber!Gnats on dung!
“The chisel is in your hand, the blockis before you, cut as I shall dictate:this is the coffin of Uresh-Nai,priestess to the sky goddess,--builtto endure forever!Carve the insidewith the image of my death inlittle lines of figures three fingers high.Put a lid on it cut with Mut bending overthe earth, for my headpiece, and in the yearto be chosen I will rouse, the lidshall be lifted and I will walk aboutthe temple where they have rested meand eat the air of the place:
The priestess has passed into her tomb.The stone has taken up her spirit!Granite over flesh: who will denyits advantages?
Your death?--waterspilled upon the ground--though water will mount again into rose-leaves--but you?--would hold life still,even as a memory, when it is over.Benevolence is rare.
Climb about this sarcophagus, readwhat is writ for you in these figures,hard as the granite that has held themwith so soft a hand the whileyour own flesh has been fifty timesthrough the guts of oxen,--read!“The rose-tree will have its donoreven though he give stingily.The gift of some enduresten years, the gift of some twentyand the gift of some for the time agreat house rots and is torn down.Some give for a thousand years to men ofone face, some for a thousandto all men and some few to all menwhile granite holds an edge againstthe weather.Judge then of love!”
“My flesh is turned to stone. Ihave endured my summer. The flurryof falling petals is ended. Laythe finger upon this granite. I waswell desired and fully caressedby many lovers but my fleshwithered swiftly and my heart wasnever satisfied. Lay your handsupon the granite as a lover lays hishand upon the thigh and upon theround breasts of her who isbeside him, for now I will not wither,now I have thrown off secrecy, nowI have walked naked into the street,now I have scattered my heavy beautyin the open market.Here I am with head high and aburning heart eagerly awaitingyour caresses, whoever it may be,for granite is not harder thanmy love is open, runs loose among you!
But it is five o’clock. Come!Life is good--enjoy it!A walk in the park while the day lasts.I will go with you. Look! thisnorthern scenery is not the Nile, but--these benches--the yellow and purple dusk--the moon there--these tired people--the lights on the water!
Are not these Jews and--Ethiopians?The world is young, surely! Youngand colored like--a girl that has come upona lover! Will that do?
Words in this poem
- nobody n.
- No person; no one; not anybody. [No, a. + body.]
- cracked a.
- Coarsely ground or broken; as, cracked wheat.
- simpering a.
- from Simper, v.
- turnstile n.
- A revolving frame in a footpath, preventing the passage of horses or cattle, but admitting that of persons; a turnpike. See Turnpike, n., 1.
- priestess n.
- A woman who officiated in sacred rites among pagans. Abp.
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- packet n.
- A small pack or package; a little bundle or parcel; as, a packet of letters. [F. paquet, dim. fr. LL. paccus, from the same source as E. pack. See Pack.]
- comber n.
- One who combs; one whose occupation it is to comb wool, flax, etc.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- donor n.
- One who gives or bestows; one who confers anything gratuitously; a benefactor. [F. donneur, OF. daneor, fr. donner. See Donee, and cf. Donator.]
- stingily adv.
- In a stingy manner.
- flurry n.
- A sudden and brief blast or gust; a light, temporary breeze; as, a flurry of wind. [Prov. E. flur to ruffle.]
- whoever pron.
- Whatever person; any person who; be or she who; any one who; as, he shall be punished, whoever he may be.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
History is in the public domain. This text is taken from A Book of Poems, Al Que Quiere!, Project Gutenberg ebook #51997; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Carlos Williams, History, in Al Que Quiere! (1917), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #51997, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/williams-al-que-quiere/history.html, id L01112.
Form and metre
History is 109 lines in 14 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 73%). 91% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.8 syllables. 26 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 53% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic tetrameter.
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.
- 8 --A----A------ block · dictate · naiA · built · forever · inside · in · highA · over · year · lid · about · me · place
- 11 A----A------B----B readA · figures · them · while · times · readA · donor · stingily · endures · twenty · a · down · ofB · thousand · men · against · weather · loveB
- 12 --AB--B-CDC--E-EA-D-- i · flurry · layA · wasB · caressed · flesh · wasB · hands · hisC · theD · isC · wither · now · streetE · beauty · marketE · aA · awaiting · beD · than · you
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 trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Leaves stir this way then that | 6 | ······ |
| on the baked asphalt, the wheels | 7 | ···/··· |
| of motor cars rush over them,-- | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| gas smells mingle with leaf smells. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Oh, Sunday, day of worship!!! | 7 | ·/···/˘ |
| The steps to the museum are high. | 9 | ····˘/˘·· |
| Worshippers pass in and out. | 7 | /˘˘···· |
| Nobody comes here today. | 7 | /····˘/ |
| I come here to mingle faiance dug | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| from the tomb, turquoise colored | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| necklaces and belched wind from the | 8 | /˘˘····· |
| stomach; delicately veined basins | 9 | /˘/˘˘˘·/˘ |
| of agate, cracked and discolored and | 9 | ·/˘··˘/˘· |
| the stink of stale urine! | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Enter! Elbow in at the door. | 8 | /˘/····· |
| Men? Women? | 3 | ·/˘ |
| Simpering, clay fetish-faces counting | 10 | /˘˘·/˘/˘/˘ |
| through the turnstile. | 4 | ··/· |
| Ah! | 1 | · |
| This sarcophagus contained the body | 10 | ·˘/˘˘˘/·/˘ |
| of Uresh-Nai, priestess to the goddess Mut, | 11 | ····/˘··/˘· |
| Mother of All-- | 4 | /˘·· |
| Run your finger against this edge! | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| --here went the chisel!--and think | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| of an arrogance endured six thousand years | 11 | ··/˘˘˘/·/˘· |
| without a flaw! | 4 | ···· |
| But love is an oil to embalm the body. | 11 | ······˘/·/˘ |
| Love is a packet of spices, a strong | 10 | ···/˘·/˘·· |
| smelling liquid to be squirted into | 10 | /˘/˘··/˘·· |
| the thigh. No? | 3 | ··· |
| Love rubbed on a bald head will make | 8 | ········ |
| hair--and after? Love is | 6 | ······ |
| a lice comber! | 4 | ··/˘ |
| Gnats on dung! | 3 | ··· |
| “The chisel is in your hand, the block | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| is before you, cut as I shall dictate: | 10 | ········˘/ |
| this is the coffin of Uresh-Nai, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| priestess to the sky goddess,--built | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| to endure forever! | 6 | ·˘/˘/˘ |
| Carve the inside | 4 | ··˘/ |
| with the image of my death in | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| little lines of figures three fingers high. | 10 | /˘··/˘·/˘· |
| Put a lid on it cut with Mut bending over | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| the earth, for my headpiece, and in the year | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| to be chosen I will rouse, the lid | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| shall be lifted and I will walk about | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| the temple where they have rested me | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| and eat the air of the place: | 7 | ······· |
| The priestess has passed into her tomb. | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| The stone has taken up her spirit! | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Granite over flesh: who will deny | 9 | /˘·····˘/ |
| its advantages? | 5 | ·˘/˘˘ |
| Your death?--water | 4 | ··/˘ |
| spilled upon the ground-- | 5 | ····· |
| though water will mount again into rose-leaves-- | 11 | ·/˘··˘/···· |
| but you?--would hold life still, | 6 | ······ |
| even as a memory, when it is over. | 12 | /˘··/˘˘····· |
| Benevolence is rare. | 6 | ˘/˘˘·· |
| Climb about this sarcophagus, read | 9 | ····˘/˘˘· |
| what is writ for you in these figures, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| hard as the granite that has held them | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| with so soft a hand the while | 7 | ······· |
| your own flesh has been fifty times | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| through the guts of oxen,--read! | 7 | ····/˘· |
| “The rose-tree will have its donor | 8 | ······/˘ |
| even though he give stingily. | 8 | /˘···/˘˘ |
| The gift of some endures | 6 | ····˘/ |
| ten years, the gift of some twenty | 8 | ······/˘ |
| and the gift of some for the time a | 9 | ········· |
| great house rots and is torn down. | 7 | ······· |
| Some give for a thousand years to men of | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| one face, some for a thousand | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| to all men and some few to all men | 9 | ········· |
| while granite holds an edge against | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| the weather. | 3 | ·/˘ |
| Judge then of love!” | 4 | ···· |
| “My flesh is turned to stone. I | 7 | ······· |
| have endured my summer. The flurry | 9 | ·˘/·/˘·/˘ |
| of falling petals is ended. Lay | 9 | ·/˘/˘·/˘· |
| the finger upon this granite. I was | 10 | ·/˘···/˘·· |
| well desired and fully caressed | 9 | ·˘/˘·/˘˘/ |
| by many lovers but my flesh | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| withered swiftly and my heart was | 8 | /˘/˘···· |
| never satisfied. Lay your hands | 8 | /˘/˘···· |
| upon the granite as a lover lays his | 11 | ···/˘··/˘·· |
| hand upon the thigh and upon the | 9 | ········· |
| round breasts of her who is | 6 | ······ |
| beside him, for now I will not wither, | 10 | ˘/······/˘ |
| now I have thrown off secrecy, now | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| I have walked naked into the street, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| now I have scattered my heavy beauty | 10 | ···/˘·/˘/˘ |
| in the open market. | 6 | ··/˘/˘ |
| Here I am with head high and a | 8 | ········ |
| burning heart eagerly awaiting | 9 | /˘·/˘˘˘/˘ |
| your caresses, whoever it may be, | 10 | ·˘/˘˘/˘··· |
| for granite is not harder than | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| my love is open, runs loose among you! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| But it is five o’clock. Come! | 7 | ····˘/· |
| Life is good--enjoy it! | 6 | ···˘/· |
| A walk in the park while the day lasts. | 9 | ········· |
| I will go with you. Look! this | 7 | ······· |
| northern scenery is not the Nile, but-- | 10 | /˘/˘˘····· |
| these benches--the yellow and purple dusk-- | 10 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘· |
| the moon there--these tired people-- | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| the lights on the water! | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Are not these Jews and--Ethiopians? | 10 | ······˘/˘˘ |
| The world is young, surely! Young | 7 | ····/˘· |
| and colored like--a girl that has come upon | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| a lover! Will that do? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
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.