Analysis of Noon
William Cullen Bryant 1794 (Cummington) – 1878 (New York City)
FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM.
'Tis noon. At noon the Hebrew bowed the knee
And worshipped, while the husbandmen withdrew
From the scorched field, and the wayfaring man
Grew faint, and turned aside by bubbling fount,
Or rested in the shadow of the palm.
I, too, amid the overflow of day,
Behold the power which wields and cherishes
The frame of Nature. From this brow of rock
That overlooks the Hudson's western marge,
I gaze upon the long array of groves,
The piles and gulfs of verdure drinking in
The grateful heats. They love the fiery sun;
Their broadening leaves grow glossier, and their sprays
Climb as he looks upon them. In the midst,
The swelling river, into his green gulfs,
Unshadowed save by passing sails above,
Takes the redundant glory, and enjoys
The summer in his chilly bed. Coy flowers,
That would not open in the early light,
Push back their plaited sheaths. The rivulet's pool,
That darkly quivered all the morning long
In the cool shade, now glimmers in the sun;
And o'er its surface shoots, and shoots again,
The glittering dragon-fly, and deep within
Run the brown water-beetles to and fro.
A silence, the brief sabbath of an hour,
Reigns o'er the fields; the laborer sits within
His dwelling; he has left his steers awhile,
Unyoked, to bite the herbage, and his dog
Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone in the shade.
Now the grey marmot, with uplifted paws,
No more sits listening by his den, but steals
Abroad, in safety, to the clover field,
And crops its juicy blossoms. All the while
A ceaseless murmur from the populous town
Swells o'er these solitudes: a mingled sound
Of jarring wheels, and iron hoofs that clash
Upon the stony ways, and hammer-clang,
And creak of engines lifting ponderous bulks,
And calls and cries, and tread of eager feet,
Innumerable, hurrying to and fro.
Noon, in that mighty mart of nations, brings
No pause to toil and care. With early day
Began the tumult, and shall only cease
When midnight, hushing one by one the sounds
Of bustle, gathers the tired brood to rest.
Thus, in this feverish time, when love of gain
And luxury possess the hearts of men,
Thus is it with the noon of human life.
We, in our fervid manhood, in our strength
Of reason, we, with hurry, noise, and care,
Plan, toil, and strife, and pause not to refresh
Our spirits with the calm and beautiful
Of God's harmonious universe, that won
Our youthful wonder; pause not to inquire
Why we are here; and what the reverence
Man owes to man, and what the mystery
That links us to the greater world, beside
Whose borders we but hover for a space.
Scheme | X AXXBX BCXXXDEXBXXXXBXXEFDG XDHXBXXBHXBXXCBGXBXXB XFXXXXXEXXABX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 1101010 1111010101 01010101 10110011 11010111001 110001101 110101011 01010110100 0111011111 110010101 1101010111 010111100 01011101001 110011100011 1111011001 0101001111 11110101 1001010001 01001101110 1111000101 111101011 110110101 0011110001 01011010101 01001010101 1011010101 01001101110 110010100101 1101111101 11101011 1101011001 101111001 11110011111 0101010101 0111010101 01010101001 110110101 1101010111 0101010101 01110101001 0101011101 01000100101 1011011101 1111011101 0101001101 11111101 11010010111 10110011111 0100010111 1111011101 10101010101 1101110101 1101011101 10101010100 1101001011 10101011101 1111010100 1111010100 1111010101 1101110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,514 |
Words | 457 |
Sentences | 17 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 5, 20, 21, 13 |
Lines Amount | 60 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 403 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 91 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:19 min read
- 93 Views
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"Noon" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/40308/noon>.
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