Analysis of Stella's Birthday, March 13, 1726
Jonathan Swift 1667 (Dublin) – 1745 (Ireland)
This day, whate'er the Fates decree,
Shall still be kept with joy by me;
This day, then, let us not be told
That you are sick, and I grown old,
Nor think on our approaching ills,
And talk of spectacles and pills;
To-morrow will be time enough
To hear such mortifying stuff.
Yet, since from reason may be brought
A better and more pleasing thought,
Which can, in spite of all decays,
Support a few remaining days:
From not the gravest of divines
Accept for once some serious lines.
Although we now can form no more
Long schemes of life, as heretofore;
Yet you, while time is running fast,
Can look with joy on what is past.
Were future happiness and pain
A mere contrivance of the brain,
As Atheists argue, to entice,
And fit their proselytes for vice
(The only comfort they propose,
To have companions in their woes).
Grant this the case, yet sure 'tis hard
That virtue, styled its own reward,
And by all sages understood
To be the chief of human good,
Should acting, die, or leave behind
Some lasting pleasure in the mind.
Which by remembrance will assuage
Grief, sickness, poverty, and age;
And strongly shoot a radiant dart,
To shine through life's declining part.
Say, Stella, feel you no content,
Reflecting on a life well spent;
Your skilful hand employed to save
Despairing wretches from the grave;
And then supporting with your store,
Those whom you dragged from death before?
So Providence on mortals waits,
Preserving what it first creates,
You generous boldness to defend
An innocent and absent friend;
That courage which can make you just,
To merit humbled in the dust;
The detestation you express
For vice in all its glittering dress:
That patience under to torturing pain,
Where stubborn stoics would complain.
Must these like empty shadows pass,
Or forms reflected from a glass?
Or mere chimaeras in the mind,
That fly, and leave no marks behind?
Does not the body thrive and grow
By food of twenty years ago?
And, had it not been still supplied,
It must a thousand times have died.
Then, who with reason can maintain
That no effects of food remain?
And, is not virtue in mankind
The nutriment that feeds the mind?
Upheld by each good action past,
And still continued by the last:
Then, who with reason can pretend
That all effects of virtue end?
Believe me, Stella, when you show
That true contempt for things below,
Nor prize your life for other ends
Than merely to oblige your friends,
Your former actions claim their part,
And join to fortify your heart.
For virtue in her daily race,
Like Janus, bears a double face.
Look back with joy where she has gone,
And therefore goes with courage on.
She at your sickly couch will wait,
And guide you to a better state.
O then, whatever heav'n intends,
Take pity on your pitying friends;
Nor let your ills affect your mind,
To fancy they can be unkind;
Me, surely me, you ought to spare,
Who gladly would your sufferings share;
Or give my scrap of life to you,
And think it far beneath your due;
You to whose care so oft I owe
That I'm alive to tell you so.
Scheme | AABBCCDDEEFFCGHHIIJJKKLLMNOOPPQQRRSSTTHHUUVVWWXXJJYYPPZZ1 1 JJPPIIVVZZ2 2 RR3 3 4 5 6 6 2 2 PP7 7 8 8 ZZ |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11100101 11111111 11111111 11110111 111100101 01110001 11011101 11111 11110111 01001101 11011101 01010101 1101011 011111001 1111111 1111101 11111101 11111111 01010001 01010101 110010101 011111 01010101 11010011 11011111 11011101 0111001 11011101 11011101 11010001 11010101 11010001 010101001 11110101 11011110 01010111 1110111 0101101 01010111 11111101 11001101 01011101 110010101 11000101 11011111 11010001 01101 110111001 1101011001 11010101 1111011 11010101 111001 11011101 11010101 11110101 01111101 11010111 11110101 11011101 01110011 011101 01111101 01010101 11110101 11011101 01110111 11011101 11111101 11010111 11010111 0111011 11000101 11010101 11111111 0111101 11110111 01110101 1110101 110111001 11110111 11011101 11011111 110111001 11111111 01110111 11111111 11011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,939 |
Words | 547 |
Sentences | 21 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 88 |
Lines Amount | 88 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 2,370 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 545 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:45 min read
- 36 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Stella's Birthday, March 13, 1726" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/24320/stella%27s-birthday%2C-march-13%2C-1726>.
Discuss this Jonathan Swift poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In