The Child
Stay and come with me, newly-married bride,For if you hear him you grow like the rest;Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn,And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue,You're crouching there and shivering at the grave.
But I can lead you, newly-married bride,Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,And where kind tongues bring no captivity;For we are but obedient to the thoughtsThat drift into the mind at a wink of the eye.
But clinging mortal hope must fall from you,For we who ride the winds, run on the waves,And dance upon the mountains are more lightThan dewdrops on the banner of the dawn.
Beloved, I will keep you.I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you,Nor all the faery host, do what they please,Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms.
Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey,Almost out of the very hand of God;And day by day their power is more and more,And men and women leave old paths, for prideComes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart.
"The wind blows out of the gates of the day,The wind blows over the lonely of heart,And the lonely of heart is withered away;While the faeries dance in a place apart,Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and singOf a land where even the old are fair,And even the wise are merry of tongue;But I heard a reed of Coolaney say--'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,The lonely of heart is withered away.'"
Words in this poem
- churn n.
- A vessel in which milk or cream is stirred, beaten, or otherwise agitated (as by a plunging or revolving dasher) in order to separete the oily globules from the other parts, and obtain butter. [OE. chirne, cherne, AS. ceren, cyrin; akin to D. karn, Dan. kierne. See Churn, v. t.]
- nobody n.
- No person; no one; not anybody. [No, a. + body.]
- 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,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Child is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #38877; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: W. B. Yeats, The Child, in Poems (1895), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #38877, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/yeats-poems/the-child-4.html, id L16681.
Form and metre
The Child is 38 lines in 6 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 78%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 1 line ends on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 10% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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.
- 4 AA-- youA · youA · please · arms
- 6 ABABCDCDEAEA dayA · heartB · awayA · apartB · ringC · airD · singC · fairD · tongueE · sayA · sungE · awayA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Stay and come with me, newly-married bride, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| For if you hear him you grow like the rest; | 10 | ·········· |
| Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue, | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| You're crouching there and shivering at the grave. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| But I can lead you, newly-married bride, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, | 11 | ·/·····/˘·· |
| Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, | 11 | ·/·····/˘·· |
| Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue, | 11 | ·/·····/˘·· |
| And where kind tongues bring no captivity; | 10 | ······˘/˘˘ |
| For we are but obedient to the thoughts | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye. | 12 | ············ |
| But clinging mortal hope must fall from you, | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| For we who ride the winds, run on the waves, | 10 | ·········· |
| And dance upon the mountains are more light | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Than dewdrops on the banner of the dawn. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Beloved, I will keep you. | 6 | ˘/···· |
| I've more than words, I have these arms to hold you, | 11 | ··········· |
| Nor all the faery host, do what they please, | 10 | ·········· |
| Shall ever make me loosen you from these arms. | 10 | ·/··/˘···· |
| Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey, | 10 | ···/˘·/··· |
| Almost out of the very hand of God; | 10 | /····/˘··· |
| And day by day their power is more and more, | 10 | ·····/···· |
| And men and women leave old paths, for pride | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| "The wind blows out of the gates of the day, | 10 | ·········· |
| The wind blows over the lonely of heart, | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| And the lonely of heart is withered away; | 11 | ··/˘···/˘˘/ |
| While the faeries dance in a place apart, | 9 | ·······˘/ |
| Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, | 9 | /˘······· |
| Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; | 9 | /˘······· |
| For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| Of a land where even the old are fair, | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| And even the wise are merry of tongue; | 10 | ·/˘···/˘·· |
| But I heard a reed of Coolaney say-- | 10 | ·········· |
| 'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| The lonely of heart is withered away.'" | 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.