"There Is an Eminence,—Of These Our Hills"
There is an Eminence,--of these our hillsThe last that parleys with the setting sun;We can behold it from our orchard-seat;And, when at evening we pursue our walkAlong the public way, this Peak, so highAbove us, and so distant in its height,Is visible; and often seems to sendIts own deep quiet to restore our hearts.The meteors make of it a favourite haunt:The star of Jove, so beautiful and largeIn the mid heavens, is never half so fairAs when he shines above it. 'Tis in truthThe loneliest place we have among the clouds.And She who dwells with me, whom I have lovedWith such communion, that no place on earthCan ever be a solitude to me,Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name.
Words in this poem
- jove n.
- The chief divinity of the ancient Romans; Jupiter. [L. Jupiter, gen. Jovis, OL. Jovis, nom. & gen. for Djovis; akin to E. Tuesday. See Tuesday, and cf. Jupiter.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
"There Is an Eminence,—Of These Our Hills" is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 2 (of 8), Project Gutenberg ebook #12145; 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 Wordsworth, "There Is an Eminence,—Of These Our Hills", in The Poetical Works, Volume II (1798–1807), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #12145, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wordsworth-vol2/there-is-an-eminence-of-these-our-hills.html, id L17319.
Form and metre
"There Is an Eminence,—Of These Our Hills" is 17 lines in a single verse paragraph. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 88% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.8 syllables. 53% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter, other poems in blank verse.
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.
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 |
|---|---|---|
| There is an Eminence,--of these our hills | 9 | ···/˘··/· |
| The last that parleys with the setting sun; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| We can behold it from our orchard-seat; | 10 | ··˘/··//˘· |
| And, when at evening we pursue our walk | 10 | ···/˘·˘//· |
| Along the public way, this Peak, so high | 10 | ˘/·/˘····· |
| Above us, and so distant in its height, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Is visible; and often seems to send | 9 | ·/˘·/˘··· |
| Its own deep quiet to restore our hearts. | 9 | ···/·˘//· |
| The meteors make of it a favourite haunt: | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| The star of Jove, so beautiful and large | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| In the mid heavens, is never half so fair | 10 | ···/˘·/··· |
| As when he shines above it. 'Tis in truth | 10 | ·········· |
| The loneliest place we have among the clouds. | 11 | ··········· |
| And She who dwells with me, whom I have loved | 10 | ·········· |
| With such communion, that no place on earth | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| Can ever be a solitude to me, | 9 | ·/··/˘··· |
| Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name. | 10 | ···/˘/˘/·· |
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