THE DAFFODILS

By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,— A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I, at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company; I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie, In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

[2]

When we look at this little poem we see at a glance that the stanzas are all the same length, that the rhyme scheme is ababcc (see “To My Infant Son,” Vol. VI), and that the indentation at the beginning of the lines corresponds with the rhymes. This poem, then, is perfectly regular in form.

There are other things, however, which go to make up perfect structure in a poem. First and foremost, the words are so arranged that the accented syllables in any given line come at regular intervals. Take, for instance, the first two lines of this poem. Each line contains eight syllables. If you number these syllables 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, you will see that it is the second one each time that bears the accent, thus:

I wan´dered lone´ly as´ a cloud´ That floats´ on high´ o’er vales´ and hills´.

Now, if you read the four remaining lines of the stanza you will see that in each one of these the second syllable [3]bears the accent, until you come to the last line, where in the word fluttering, which, by the way, you pronounce flutt´ring, the accent is on the first syllable. If the poet did not now and then change the accent a little it would become tedious and monotonous.

It is a very simple matter, you see, to separate every line of poetry into groups of syllables, and in every group to place one accented syllable and one or more syllables that are not accented. Such a group is called a foot. Thus in each of the first two lines in this poem there are four feet. Each foot contains an accented and an unaccented syllable.

If you examine To the Fringed Gentian, To a Mouse, and To a Mountain Daisy, the three poems which follow this, you will see the same structure, except that in To a Mouse and in To A Mountain Daisy there are some short lines and some double rhymes, making the last foot a little different in character from the others.

When a line of poetry is composed of two-syllable feet in which the second syllable bears the accent we call that meter iambic. It is the prevalent foot in English poetry, and if you examine the different poems in these volumes you will be surprised to find out how many of them are written substantially on the plan of The Daffodils.

In naming the meter of a poem two things are considered: First the character of the feet, and second, the number of feet. In this poem the feet are iambic and there are four of them, consequently we name the meter of this poem iambic tetrameter. Whenever you hear those words you think of a poem whose meter is exactly like that of The Daffodils.

These words seem long and hard to remember. It may help you to remember them if you think that the word iam´bic contains an iambic foot.

In naming the meter we use the Greek numerals—mono (one), di (two), tri (three), tetra (four), penta (five), hexa (six), hepta (seven), and octa (eight), and add to them the word meter, thus: Mo-nom´e-ter, a line containing one foot, dim´e-ter, trim´e-ter, te-tram´e-ter, pen-tam´e-ter, hex-am´e-ter, hep-tam´e-ter, and oc-tam´e-ter.

[4]

TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN

By William Cullen Bryant

Thou blossom, bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven’s own blue, That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night;

Thou comest not when violets lean O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Or columbines, in purple dressed, Nod o’er the ground-bird’s hidden nest.

Thou waitest late, and com’st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown, And frosts and shortening days portend The aged Year is near his end.

[5]Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky, Blue—blue—as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall.

I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart, May look to heaven as I depart.

TO A MOUSE

On Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plow, November, 1785

By Robert Burns

Wee, sleekit,5-1 cow’rin’, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickering brattle!5-2 I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee, Wi’ murdering pattle!5-3

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! [6]A daimen-icker6-4 in a thrave6-5 ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin’ wi’ the lave6-6 And never miss’t!

[7]

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin’! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane, O’ foggage7-7 green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin’, Baith snell7-8 and keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, And weary winter comin’ fast, And cozie, here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter7-9 past Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble, Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble, But house or hald,7-10 To thole7-11 the winter’s sleety dribble, An’ cranreuch7-12 cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,7-13 In proving foresight may be vain; The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men, Gang aft a-gley,7-14 An’ lea’e us nought but grief and pain, For promis’d joy.

[8]Still them are blest, compar’d wi’ me! The present only toucheth thee: But, Och! I backward cast my e’e On prospects drear; An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,8-15 I guess an’ fear.

5-1 Sleekit means sly.

5-2 Brattle means a short race.

5-3 A pattle is a scraper for cleaning a plow.

6-4 Daimen-icker means an ear of corn occasionally.

6-5 A thrave is twenty-four sheaves.

6-6 Lave is the Scotch word for remainder.

7-7 Foggage is coarse uncut grass.

7-8 Snell means sharp.

7-9 The coulter is the sharp iron which cuts the sod before the plow.

7-10 Hald means a resting place. But here means without.

7-11 Thole is the Scotch word for endure.

7-12 Cranreuch is hoar-frost.

7-13 No thy lane means not alone.

7-14 Gang aft a-gley means often go wrong.

8-15 In this poem and the one To a Mountain Daisy, does the allusion to the poet’s own hard fate add to or detract from the beauty of the composition? Do these allusions give any insight into his character? What was always uppermost in his mind?

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

On Turning One Down with the Plough in April, 1786

By Robert Burns

Wee, modest, crimson-tippéd flower, Thou’s met me in an evil hour, For I maun8-1 crush amang the stoure8-2 Thy slender stem; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonny gem.

Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet, The bonny lark, companion meet, Bending thee’ mang the dewy weet, Wi’ spreckled8-3 breast, When upward springing, blithe, to greet The purpling east.

[9]Cauld blew the bitter biting north Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce reared above the parent earth Thy tender form.

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High sheltering woods and wa’s maun shield. But thou beneath the random bield9-4 O’ clod or stane, Adorns the histie9-5 stibble-field, Unseen, alane.

[10]There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies!

Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet floweret of the rural shade! By love’s simplicity betrayed, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid Low i’ the dust.

Such is the fate of simple bard, On life’s rough ocean luckless starred! Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard And whelm him o’er!

Such fate to suffering worth is given, Who long with wants and woes has striven, By human pride or cunning driven To misery’s brink, Till wrenched of every stay but Heaven, He, ruined, sink!

Even thou who mourn’st the daisy’s fate, That fate is thine,—no distant date: Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight, Shall be thy doom!

8-1 Maun is the Scotch word for must.

8-2 Stoure is the Scotch name for dust.

8-3 Spreckled is the Scotch and provincial English form of speckled.

9-4 Bield means shelter.

9-5 Histie means dry or barren.

[11]

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET11-1

By Samuel Woodworth

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond11-2 recollection presents them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep, tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot that my infancy11-3 knew. The wide-spreading pond, and the mill11-4 that stood by it; The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy house11-5 nigh it, And e’en the rude bucket which hung in the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.

That moss-covered bucket I hail as a treasure; For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. [12]How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell12-6; Then soon with the emblem of truth12-7 overflowing, And dripping with coolness it rose from the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb,12-8 it inclined to my lips! [13]Not a full blushing goblet13-9 could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar13-10 that Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from the loved situation,13-11 The tear of regret will oftentimes swell, As fancy returns to my father’s plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well.

If we compare The Old Oaken Bucket with The Daffodils (page 1), we will see that the lines of the former are longer, and when we read aloud a few lines from the one and compare the other, we see that the movement is very different. In The Old Oaken Bucket the accents are farther apart, and the result is to make the movement long and smooth, like that of a swing with long ropes.

Let us examine more closely the lines of The Old Oaken Bucket in a manner similar to that suggested on page 2, for The Daffodils. If we place the accent on the proper syllables in the first four lines, they will read as follows:

How dear´| to my heart´| are the scenes´| of my child´|hood, When fond´| rec-ol-lec´|tion pre-sents´| them to view’; The or´|chard, the mead´|ow, the deep´| tan-gled wild´|-wood, And ev´|’ry loved spot´| that my in´|fan-cy knew.´

[14]

The vertical lines above are drawn at the ends of the feet. How many feet are there in the first line; how many in the second; how many in the third; how many in the fourth? How many syllables in the first foot in the first line? How many other feet do you find containing the same number of syllables? How many syllables are there in the second foot in the first line? How many other feet are there containing the same number of syllables? Examine the feet that contain three syllables. On which syllable is the accent placed when there are three syllables in the foot? A poetic foot of three syllables which bears the accent on the third syllable is called an anapestic foot. The meter of this poem, then is anapestic tetrameter, varied by an added syllable in most of the odd-numbered lines and by an iambic foot at the beginning of each line.

Can you find any other poem in this volume in which the meter is the same? Can you find such poems in other volumes?

11-1 Samuel Woodworth, the author of this familiar song, was an American, the editor of many publications and the writer of a great many poems; but no one of the latter is now remembered, except The Old Oaken Bucket.

11-2 This means that the author remembers fondly the scenes of his childhood, or remembers the things of which he was fond in his childhood.

11-3 As the term is used in the law-books, a person is an infant until he is twenty-one years of age; though, probably the word infancy here means the same as childhood.

11-4 Let us picture a large mill-pond with a race running out of one side of it past the old-fashioned mill, which has a big wooden water wheel on the outside of it.

11-5 The dairy house was probably a low, broad building through which the water from the stream ran. The milkpans were set on low shelves or in a trough so that the water could run around them and keep the milk cool.

12-6 If he could see the white-pebbled bottom of the well, it must have been a shallow one, or perhaps merely a square box built around a deep spring.

12-7 Water is usually spoken of as an emblem of purity, not of truth; but sometimes truth is spoken of as hiding at the bottom of a well.

12-8 The curb is the square box usually built around the mouth of the well to a height of a few feet, to protect the water from dirt. Sometimes three of the sides are carried up to a height of six or eight feet, and a roof is built over the whole, making a little house of the curb. The fourth side is left open, except for two or three feet at the bottom. In these old wells two buckets were often used. They were attached to a rope which ran over a wheel suspended from the roof of the well house. When a bucket was drawn up it was often rested on the low curb in front, while people drank from it.

13-9 Blushing goblet alludes to wine or some other liquor that has a reddish color.

13-10 Nectar was the drink of the old Greek gods, of whom Jupiter was the chief.

13-11 Situation and plantation do not rhyme well, and situation is scarcely the right word to use. Location would be better, so far as the meaning is concerned.

[15]

BANNOCKBURN

Robert Bruce’s Address to His Army

By Robert Burns

Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled; Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to glorious victorie!

Now’s the day and now’s the hour— See the front o’ battle lour; See approach proud Edward’s power— Edward! chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward’s grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Traitor! coward! turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland’s king and law Freedom’s sword will strongly draw! Freeman stand or freeman fa’, Caledonian! on wi’ me!

By oppression’s woes and pains! By our sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be—shall be free!

[16]Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty’s in every blow! Forward! let us do or die!

On pages 2, and 13, of this volume we talked about the different meters in which poetry is written. In iambic poetry each foot contains two syllables, the second of which is accented. There is another kind of foot composed of two syllables. In this the accent falls on the first syllable. Bannockburn gives examples of this. To illustrate, we will rewrite the first stanza, using the words in their English form, and mark off the feet and the accent:

Scots´, who | have´ with | Wal´-lace | bled´, Scots´, whom | Bruce´ has | of´-ten | led´; Wel´-come | to´ your | go´-ry | bed´, Or´ to | glo´rious | vic´-to | ry´.

Each one of these lines ends with an accented syllable, but that may be disregarded in studying the feet. This foot is called the trochee, and it will help you to remember it if you will think that the word tro´chee has two syllables and is accented on the first. This poem, then, is in trochaic trimeter, with added accented syllables at the ends of the lines. Read the other stanzas carefully, throwing the accent prominently on the first syllable of each foot.

When you read to bring out the meter of a poem you are said to be scanning it. When you are in the habit of scanning poetry you will find that you can do it very nicely and without spoiling the sound. At first you will probably accent the syllables too strongly, and then people will say that you are reading in a sing-song way, a thing to be avoided. Of course you will understand that the only way to bring out the meter of a poem is to read it aloud, but after you have become familiar with the various meters and have read aloud a great deal, you will be conscious of the rhythm when you read to yourself. It is this consciousness of rhythm that gives much of the enjoyment to those who love poetry, even when they do not read it aloud.

[17]

BOAT SONG

From Lady of the Lake

By Sir Walter Scott

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances! Honored and blest be the evergreen pine! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shout back again, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!”

Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain The more shall Clan Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest’s shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow: Menteith and Breadalbane, then Echo his praise again, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!”

[18]Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Bannochar’s groans to our slogan replied; Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan Alpine with fear and with woe; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear again, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!”

Row, vassals, row for the pride of the Highlands! Stretch to your oars for the evergreen pine! O that the rosebud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! O that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! Loud should Clan Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!”

The last of the common feet which we shall have to consider in reading English poetry is called dactyl. This foot consists of three syllables, the first of which is accented. Scott’s Boat Song is a very fine example of dactylic tetrameter, in which the last foot consists either of a trochee (see page 16) or of a single accented syllable. In every stanza there are four short lines of dactylic dimeter. Study the four lines which we have divided for you below:

Hail´ to the | chief´ who in | tri´umph ad|van´ces! Hon´ored and | blest´ be the | ev´er green | pine!´ Long´ may the | tree´, in his | ban´ner that | glan´ces, Flou´rish, the | shel´ter and | grace´ of our | line.´

This is one of the finest meters in which poetry may be written, and one which you will learn to recognize and like whenever you see it.

[19]To assist you in remembering what we have said on this subject in the four poems we have studied, we will give this brief outline:

Poetic feet