The Two Trees
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,The holy tree is growing there;From joy the holy branches start,And all the trembling flowers they bear.The changing colours of its fruitHave dowered the stars with merry light;The surety of its hidden rootHas planted quiet in the night;The shaking of its leafy headHas given the waves their melody,And made my lips and music wed,Murmuring a wizard song for thee.There, through bewildered branches, goWinged Loves borne on in gentle strife,Tossing and tossing to and froThe flaming circle of our life.When looking on their shaken hair,And dreaming how they dance and dart,Thine eyes grow full of tender care:Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glassThe demons, with their subtle guile,Lift up before us when they pass,Or only gaze a little while;For there a fatal image grows,With broken boughs, and blackened leaves,And roots half hidden under snowsDriven by a storm that ever grieves.For all things turn to barrennessIn the dim glass the demons hold,The glass of outer weariness,Made when God slept in times of old.There, through the broken branches, goThe ravens of unresting thought;Peering and flying to and froTo see men's souls bartered and bought.When they are heard upon the wind,And when they shake their wings; alas!Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
Words in this poem
- dowered p. a.
- Furnished with, or as with, dower or a marriage portion.
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- unkind a.
- Having no race or kindred; childless. [See Kin kindred.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Two Trees 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 Two Trees, in Poems (1895), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #38877, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/yeats-poems/the-two-trees.html, id L16666.
Form and metre
The Two Trees is 40 lines in 2 stanzas of 20 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 88% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 25% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic 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.
- 1 ABABCDCDE-E-FGFGBABA heartA · thereB · startA · bearB · fruitC · lightD · rootC · nightD · headE · melody · wedE · thee · goF · strifeG · froF · lifeG · hairB · dartA · careB · heartA
- 2 ABABCDCDEFEFGHGHIAIA glassA · guileB · passA · whileB · growsC · leavesD · snowsC · grievesD · barrennessE · holdF · wearinessE · oldF · goG · thoughtH · froG · boughtH · windI · alasA · unkindI · glassA
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, | 7 | ˘/····· |
| The holy tree is growing there; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| From joy the holy branches start, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And all the trembling flowers they bear. | 10 | ···/˘˘/˘·· |
| The changing colours of its fruit | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Have dowered the stars with merry light; | 9 | ··˘···/˘· |
| The surety of its hidden root | 9 | ·/˘˘··/˘· |
| Has planted quiet in the night; | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| The shaking of its leafy head | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Has given the waves their melody, | 9 | ·/˘···/˘˘ |
| And made my lips and music wed, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Murmuring a wizard song for thee. | 9 | /˘˘·/˘··· |
| There, through bewildered branches, go | 9 | ··˘/˘˘/˘· |
| Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife, | 9 | ·˘····/˘· |
| Tossing and tossing to and fro | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| The flaming circle of our life. | 9 | ·/˘/˘·/˘· |
| When looking on their shaken hair, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And dreaming how they dance and dart, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Thine eyes grow full of tender care: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. | 7 | ˘/····· |
| Gaze no more in the bitter glass | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The demons, with their subtle guile, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Lift up before us when they pass, | 8 | ········ |
| Or only gaze a little while; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| For there a fatal image grows, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| With broken boughs, and blackened leaves, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| And roots half hidden under snows | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Driven by a storm that ever grieves. | 9 | /˘····/˘· |
| For all things turn to barrenness | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| In the dim glass the demons hold, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The glass of outer weariness, | 8 | ···/˘/˘˘ |
| Made when God slept in times of old. | 8 | ········ |
| There, through the broken branches, go | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| The ravens of unresting thought; | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Peering and flying to and fro | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| To see men's souls bartered and bought. | 9 | ····/˘˘·· |
| When they are heard upon the wind, | 8 | ········ |
| And when they shake their wings; alas! | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Thy tender eyes grow all unkind: | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Gaze no more in the bitter glass. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
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.