Analysis of The unknown woman



I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.
And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
Of Nature's willful moods; and here a one
That had drunk in the transitory tone
Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
And watered with the scented dew long cupped
In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars
The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,
A grey stone wall. o'ergrown with velvet moss
Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed
To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.
And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
The garden came a youth; one hand he raised
To shield her from the sun, her wind-tossed hair
Was twined with flowers, and in her hand he bore
A purple bunch of bursting grapes, her eyes
Were clear as crystal, naked all was she,
White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
Red were her lips as red wine-spilith that dyes
A marble floor, her brow chalcedony.
And she came near me, with her lips uncurled
And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend,
Come I will show thee shadows of the world
And images of life. See from the South
Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.'
And lo! within the garden of my dream
I saw two walking on a shining plain
Of golden light. The one did joyous seem
And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
Came from her lips; she sang of pretty maids
And joyous love of comely girl and boy,
her eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades
Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy;
And in her hand he held an ivory lute
With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair,
And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,
And round her neck three chains of roses were.
But she that was his comrade walked aside;
she was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes
Were strange with wondrous brigh her eyes, staring wide
With gazing; and she sighed with many sighs
That moved me, and her cheeks were wan and white
Like pallid lilies, and her lips were red
Like poppies, and her hands she clenched tight,
And yet again unclenched, and her head
Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of love.
A purple robe she wore, Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will,
I am the love that dare not speak its name.'


Scheme ABABCDCEFGHFGHIJBKJLMBNMONPQRNQRBSTUSTVWVWHXHXYNYZ1 Q1 Q2 3 2 3 4 A5
Poetic Form
Metre 1111010101 0111110111 10110100111 1101010111 1001010110 0101000100 1011111 1110110111 111111001 010100100101 1010111111 1101010101 111001001 111100011 1110110111 10110010101 0101010111 0101111111 10110110011 010011100101 011111101 101011111 1101111111 011101101 0101011111 1101010111 11110000111 0101110101 0111010111 110111101 1001111111 010101100 011111011 0101110111 0111110111 111111101 0100111101 10110111011 0101010111 1111010101 1101011101 0101000101 1101111101 0101110101 0101010101 1101111111 00011111001 1111101101 0111110101 0101111100 111111101 1111010111 01110101101 1100111101 1110010101 1101000101 110001111 01011001 11111011111 0101111101010111 1101111111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,812
Words 580
Sentences 15
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 61
Lines Amount 61
Letters per line (avg) 35
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 2,151
Words per stanza (avg) 518

About this poem

It was like a dream I had to let it out!

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Written on September 19, 2023

Submitted by Pinkerton2022 on September 20, 2023

2:54 min read
4

Albert pinkerton

I’m 36 years old and have seen and been through enough to last a life time! I’m alone in this world just me my self and I. I stay in my head some day I’m lost but I’m not just waiting for the right time in life to release myself from what ever is holding me back. more…

All Albert pinkerton poems | Albert pinkerton Books

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