Dover Beach:
Stanza 1
Line 1
The sea is calm tonight.
This first line gives us two simple, basic facts. It's nighttime, and the sea is calm. Can't
you just picture it? Hey, that's all we need to start building a mental world.
As you'll see, "Dover Beach" will end up running back in time and all over the world,
but that image of the ocean at night will always be front-and-center.
In addition to giving us the image that will anchor the poem, this line sets a very
particular tone. The words are short and clear.
The line ends with a period, making it a complete, simple sentence. There's no
activity, just stillness and simplicity. In a word, this line is calm, just like the ocean.
Line 2
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Here we get a little more description of the setting of this poem. It's high ("full") tide,
the moon is out, and it's beautiful ("fair").
We've pointed out how the first line was self-contained, a complete thought in itself.
In this line, the end of the line isn't the end of the sentence, so the phrase "the moon
lies fair" isn't complete. It makes the reader want to know where the moon lies fair,
or how. To find out, you have to continue to the next line. That poetic technique,
where a sentence is broken up across more than one line, is called enjambment.
We also want to point out that little break in the middle of the line (marked by the
comma). The line takes a pause here, between two complete phrases. That fancy
little trick is called a caesura, and it divides the line into two parts.
Line 3
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
That moon that's lingering from the last line? Well, it turns out that it "lies fair /
Upon the straits." That just means that the moonlight is shining on a narrow body of
water ("the straits"). The speaker tells us that he can see across the strait to the
coast of France.
If we put this together with the title "Dover Beach," we get a pretty clear idea of
where the speaker is. He's on the coast of England, looking out at the English
Channel, which separates England from France. Dover is a town (you might have
heard of its famous white cliffs) right at the narrowest point in the channel. The
, French town of Calais is just a little over twenty miles away, which is why he can see
the light there.
Notice the enjambment in this line, too. Arnold keeps us rolling from line to line
here, building up momentum in the beginning of the poem.
Lines 4-5
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Suddenly the light that he saw shines out and then disappears (with Arnold's much
prettier alliteration, it "Gleams and is gone").
When the light in France disappears, the speaker looks back at his own coast. Here
he sees the famous white cliffs of Dover, which are shining in the moonlight out in
the bay. The bay, he reminds us, is "tranquil." This picks up the image of calm water
from line 1.
And once again we've got a break in line 4. See how the line pauses at the semicolon,
and then the speaker turns to a new thought? Yep, that's another caesura.
Line 6
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Here we get a little more information about what's happening in the world of the
poem. We learn that the speaker is indoors (in a room with a window).
We also find out that he's talking to someone who must be in the room with him—
that's his audience.. We don't learn much about that person yet, but our speaker
wants him or her to come to the window to smell the "sweet" air.
The tone of the poem is still really calm. Adjectives like "tranquil" and "sweet"
establish a relaxing, comforting mood here at the beginning of things.
Lines 7-8
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Now, all of a sudden, we've got a little shift on our hands. As we look out with the
speaker and his companion, he says "Only." (Here that means something like "But.")
Only what? What's the matter with this scene? Arnold is just beginning to build our
expectation.
The speaker draws our attention to the edge of the water and the surf ("the long line
of spray"). Instead of looking at the beautiful landscape as a whole, we're looking at
the specific point where the sea meets the land.
, And check out that vivid image of the "moon-blanched land." Blanched means
"whitened"—we might say "bleached." You know how bright moonlight can make
the whole world look white? Well, that's what our speaker is talking about.
Line 9
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Before, we were imagining what this scene looked like. Now the speaker tells his
companion (and us) to change the frame, to use one of our other senses.
Suddenly we're going to "Listen!" (that exclamation point is mean to wake us up) to
the sound of the water.
Turns out that sound isn't "calm" or "tranquil" like the moonlight on the water. The
speaker describes it as a "grating roar."
The harshness of the word "grating" might be a little surprising, since there's nothing
relaxing about a grating sound. It seems to Shmoop that the atmosphere of this
poem is changing. Let's keep an eye out for more shifts in the future.
Lines 10-11
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
That "grating" sound from line? That comes from the sound of pebbles. Those little
rocks are being pulled out by the waves as they go out, and then thrown back up on
the beach ("strand" is another word for beach or shore) when the waves come back
in.
Maybe you've heard that sound before, like a rhythmic rumble, a giant breathing.
The speaker really focuses in on the sound of the waves. He wants us to really feel
their inevitable, steady force. Because if one thing's for sure, it's that waves will
continue to crash on beaches all the world over.
Lines 12-13
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The grating sound of the pebbles starts, and then stops, and then starts again. The
speaker has a fancy way of describing this rhythm of the ocean. He calls it a
"tremulous cadence slow."
Let's break that one down, huh? "Tremulous" means shaky or trembling. We think
that comes from the fact that this one big sound is made up of many little sounds of
rolling pebbles. "Cadence" refers to the rhythm of that repeated sound. That's a
Stanza 1
Line 1
The sea is calm tonight.
This first line gives us two simple, basic facts. It's nighttime, and the sea is calm. Can't
you just picture it? Hey, that's all we need to start building a mental world.
As you'll see, "Dover Beach" will end up running back in time and all over the world,
but that image of the ocean at night will always be front-and-center.
In addition to giving us the image that will anchor the poem, this line sets a very
particular tone. The words are short and clear.
The line ends with a period, making it a complete, simple sentence. There's no
activity, just stillness and simplicity. In a word, this line is calm, just like the ocean.
Line 2
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Here we get a little more description of the setting of this poem. It's high ("full") tide,
the moon is out, and it's beautiful ("fair").
We've pointed out how the first line was self-contained, a complete thought in itself.
In this line, the end of the line isn't the end of the sentence, so the phrase "the moon
lies fair" isn't complete. It makes the reader want to know where the moon lies fair,
or how. To find out, you have to continue to the next line. That poetic technique,
where a sentence is broken up across more than one line, is called enjambment.
We also want to point out that little break in the middle of the line (marked by the
comma). The line takes a pause here, between two complete phrases. That fancy
little trick is called a caesura, and it divides the line into two parts.
Line 3
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
That moon that's lingering from the last line? Well, it turns out that it "lies fair /
Upon the straits." That just means that the moonlight is shining on a narrow body of
water ("the straits"). The speaker tells us that he can see across the strait to the
coast of France.
If we put this together with the title "Dover Beach," we get a pretty clear idea of
where the speaker is. He's on the coast of England, looking out at the English
Channel, which separates England from France. Dover is a town (you might have
heard of its famous white cliffs) right at the narrowest point in the channel. The
, French town of Calais is just a little over twenty miles away, which is why he can see
the light there.
Notice the enjambment in this line, too. Arnold keeps us rolling from line to line
here, building up momentum in the beginning of the poem.
Lines 4-5
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Suddenly the light that he saw shines out and then disappears (with Arnold's much
prettier alliteration, it "Gleams and is gone").
When the light in France disappears, the speaker looks back at his own coast. Here
he sees the famous white cliffs of Dover, which are shining in the moonlight out in
the bay. The bay, he reminds us, is "tranquil." This picks up the image of calm water
from line 1.
And once again we've got a break in line 4. See how the line pauses at the semicolon,
and then the speaker turns to a new thought? Yep, that's another caesura.
Line 6
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Here we get a little more information about what's happening in the world of the
poem. We learn that the speaker is indoors (in a room with a window).
We also find out that he's talking to someone who must be in the room with him—
that's his audience.. We don't learn much about that person yet, but our speaker
wants him or her to come to the window to smell the "sweet" air.
The tone of the poem is still really calm. Adjectives like "tranquil" and "sweet"
establish a relaxing, comforting mood here at the beginning of things.
Lines 7-8
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Now, all of a sudden, we've got a little shift on our hands. As we look out with the
speaker and his companion, he says "Only." (Here that means something like "But.")
Only what? What's the matter with this scene? Arnold is just beginning to build our
expectation.
The speaker draws our attention to the edge of the water and the surf ("the long line
of spray"). Instead of looking at the beautiful landscape as a whole, we're looking at
the specific point where the sea meets the land.
, And check out that vivid image of the "moon-blanched land." Blanched means
"whitened"—we might say "bleached." You know how bright moonlight can make
the whole world look white? Well, that's what our speaker is talking about.
Line 9
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Before, we were imagining what this scene looked like. Now the speaker tells his
companion (and us) to change the frame, to use one of our other senses.
Suddenly we're going to "Listen!" (that exclamation point is mean to wake us up) to
the sound of the water.
Turns out that sound isn't "calm" or "tranquil" like the moonlight on the water. The
speaker describes it as a "grating roar."
The harshness of the word "grating" might be a little surprising, since there's nothing
relaxing about a grating sound. It seems to Shmoop that the atmosphere of this
poem is changing. Let's keep an eye out for more shifts in the future.
Lines 10-11
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
That "grating" sound from line? That comes from the sound of pebbles. Those little
rocks are being pulled out by the waves as they go out, and then thrown back up on
the beach ("strand" is another word for beach or shore) when the waves come back
in.
Maybe you've heard that sound before, like a rhythmic rumble, a giant breathing.
The speaker really focuses in on the sound of the waves. He wants us to really feel
their inevitable, steady force. Because if one thing's for sure, it's that waves will
continue to crash on beaches all the world over.
Lines 12-13
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The grating sound of the pebbles starts, and then stops, and then starts again. The
speaker has a fancy way of describing this rhythm of the ocean. He calls it a
"tremulous cadence slow."
Let's break that one down, huh? "Tremulous" means shaky or trembling. We think
that comes from the fact that this one big sound is made up of many little sounds of
rolling pebbles. "Cadence" refers to the rhythm of that repeated sound. That's a
