Analysis of The Trosachs
William Wordsworth 1770 (Wordsworth House) – 1850 (Cumberland)
THERE 's not a nook within this solemn Pass,
But were an apt confessional for one
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,
That Life is but a tale of morning grass
Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase
That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes
Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass
Untouch'd, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,
If from a golden perch of aspen spray
(October's workmanship to rival May)
The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast
That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,
Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!
Scheme | ABCADEAAFGGFGF |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11101011101 1011010011 1111011101 1111011101 1011111111 1101101101 1111011 1100111111 011011101 1101011101 010101101 0101010101 11010101011 1001111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 637 |
Words | 109 |
Sentences | 4 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 477 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 107 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 33 sec read
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