Winter Sleep
When against earth a wooden heelClicks as loud as stone and steel,When snow turns flour instead of flakes,And frost bakes clay as fire bakes,When the hard-bitten fields at lastCrack like iron flawed in the cast,When the world is wicked and cross and old,I long to be quit of the cruel cold.
Little birds like bubbles of glassFly to other Americas,Birds as bright as sparkles of wineFly in the night to the Argentine,Birds of azure and flame-birds goTo the tropical Gulf of Mexico:They chase the sun, they follow the heat,It is sweet in their bones, O sweet, sweet, sweet!It's not with them that I'd love to be,But under the roots of the balsam tree.
Just as the spiniest chestnut-burrIs lined within with the finest fur,So the stony-walled, snow-roofed houseOf every squirrel and mole and mouseIs lined with thistledown, sea-gull's feather,Velvet mullein-leaf, heaped togetherWith balsam and juniper, dry and curled,Sweeter than anything else in the world.O what a warm and darksome nestWhere the wildest things are hidden to rest!It's there that I'd love to lie and sleep,Soft, soft, soft, and deep, deep, deep!
Words in this poem
- argentine a.
- Pertaining to, or resembling, silver; made of, or sounding like, silver; silvery.
- darksome a.
- Dark; gloomy; obscure; shaded; cheerless.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Winter Sleep is in the public domain. This text is taken from Nets to Catch the Wind, Project Gutenberg ebook #6682; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Elinor Wylie, Winter Sleep, in Nets to Catch the Wind (1921), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6682, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wylie-nets/winter-sleep.html, id L12766.
Form and metre
Winter Sleep is 30 lines in 3 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 87% of the lines. The metre is trochaic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 71%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.6 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 33% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in rhyming couplets, other poems in trochaic 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 AABBCCDD heelA · steelA · flakesB · bakesB · lastC · castC · oldD · coldD
- 2 ----AABBCC glass · americas · wine · argentine · goA · mexicoA · heatB · sweetB · beC · treeC
- 3 AABBCCDDEEFF burrA · furA · houseB · mouseB · featherC · togetherC · curledD · worldD · nestE · restE · sleepF · deepF
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| When against earth a wooden heel | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Clicks as loud as stone and steel, | 7 | ······· |
| When snow turns flour instead of flakes, | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| And frost bakes clay as fire bakes, | 7 | ·····/· |
| When the hard-bitten fields at last | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Crack like iron flawed in the cast, | 7 | ··/···· |
| When the world is wicked and cross and old, | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| I long to be quit of the cruel cold. | 9 | ·······/· |
| Little birds like bubbles of glass | 8 | /˘··/˘·· |
| Fly to other Americas, | 7 | ··/˘˘/˘ |
| Birds as bright as sparkles of wine | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Fly in the night to the Argentine, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Birds of azure and flame-birds go | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| To the tropical Gulf of Mexico: | 9 | ··/˘··/˘· |
| They chase the sun, they follow the heat, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| It is sweet in their bones, O sweet, sweet, sweet! | 10 | ·········· |
| It's not with them that I'd love to be, | 9 | ········· |
| But under the roots of the balsam tree. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Just as the spiniest chestnut-burr | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Is lined within with the finest fur, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| So the stony-walled, snow-roofed house | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Of every squirrel and mole and mouse | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Is lined with thistledown, sea-gull's feather, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Velvet mullein-leaf, heaped together | 9 | /˘/˘··˘/˘ |
| With balsam and juniper, dry and curled, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘··· |
| Sweeter than anything else in the world. | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| O what a warm and darksome nest | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Where the wildest things are hidden to rest! | 10 | ··/˘··/˘·· |
| It's there that I'd love to lie and sleep, | 9 | ········· |
| Soft, soft, soft, and deep, deep, deep! | 7 | ······· |
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