Visions In The Smoke Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCBCB DEDD EFGFG HIJIKLKL MNMNOPOQ RSRSTSTS BBBUBBBBB VWVWXYXYZA2ZA2 B2C2B2D2QBQB E2NE2NQBQB F2G2F2G2BH2BH2 BYBYI2YI2Y J2BJ2BK2GK2G ONONHB2HB2 L2GL2GM2N2M2N2 O2YO2YP2Q2P2Q2 F2YF2YR2GR2S2 BBVBBBVWT2WT2U2V2U2V 2BW2VW2BQBQX2Y2X2Y2Z 2YZ2Y

Rest and be thankful On the vergeA
Of the tall cliff rugged and greyB
But whose granite base the breakers surgeA
And shiver their frothy sprayB
Outstretched I gaze on the eddying wreathC
That gathers and flits awayB
With the surf beneath and between my teethC
The stem of the ancient clayB
-
With the anodyne cloud on my listless eyesD
With its spell on my dreamy brainE
As I watch the circling vapours riseD
From the brown bowl up to the sullen skiesD
-
My vision becomes more plainE
Till a dim kaleidoscope succeedsF
Through the smoke rack drifting and veeringG
Like ghostly riders on phantom steedsF
To a shadowy goal careeringG
-
In their own generation the wise may sneerH
They hold our sports in derisionI
Perchance to sophist or sage or seerJ
Were allotted a graver visionI
Yet if man of all the Creator plann'dK
His noblest work is reckonedL
Of the works of His hand by sea or by landK
The horse may at least rank secondL
-
Did they quail those steeds of the squadrons lightM
Did they flinch from the battle's roarN
When they burst on the guns of the MuscoviteM
By the echoing Black Sea shoreN
On on to the cannon's mouth they strideO
With never a swerve nor a shyP
Oh the minutes of yonder maddening rideO
Long years of pleasure outvieQ
-
No slave but a comrade staunch in thisR
Is the horse for he takes his shareS
Not in peril alone but in feverish blissR
And in longing to do and dareS
Where bullets whistle and round shot whizT
Hoofs trample and blades flash bareS
God send me an ending as fair as hisT
Who died in his stirrups thereS
-
The wind has slumbered throughout the dayB
Now a fitful gust springs over the bayB
My wandering thoughts no longer strayB
I'll fix my overcoat buttonsU
Secure my old hat as best I mayB
And a shocking bad one it is by the wayB
Blow a denser cloud from my stunted clayB
And then friend BELL as the Frenchmen sayB
We'll go back again to our muttonsB
-
There's a lull in the tumult on yonder hillV
And the clamour has grown less loudW
Though the Babel of tongues is never stillV
With the presence of such a crowdW
The bell has rung With their riders upX
At the starting post they musterY
The racers stripp'd for the Melbourne CupX
All gloss and polish and lustreY
And the course is seen with its emerald sheenZ
By the bright spring tide renew'dA2
Like a ribbon of green stretched out betweenZ
The ranks of the multitudeA2
-
The flag is lowered They're off They comeB2
The squadron is sweeping onC2
A sway in the crowd a murmuring humB2
They're here They're past They're goneD2
They came with the rush of the southern surfQ
On the bar of the storm girt bayB
And like muffled drums on the sounding turfQ
Their hoof strokes echo awayB
-
The rose and black draws clear of the ruckE2
And the murmur swells to a roarN
As the brave old colours that never were struckE2
Are seen with the lead once moreN
Though the feathery ferns and grasses waveQ
O'er the sod where Lantern sleepsB
Though the turf is green on Fisherman's graveQ
The stable its prestige keepsB
-
Six lengths in front she scours alongF2
She's bringing the field to troubleG2
She's tailing them off she's running strongF2
She shakes her head and pulls doubleG2
Now Minstrel falters and Exile flagsB
The Barb finds the pace too hotH2
And Toryboy loiters and Playboy lagsB
And the bolt of Ben Bolt is shotH2
-
That she never may be caught this dayB
Is the worst that the public wish herY
She won't be caught she comes right awayB
Hurrah for Seagull and FisherY
See Strop falls back though his reins are slackI2
Sultana begins to tireY
And the top weight tells on the Sydney crackI2
And the pace on the Gippsland flyerY
-
The rowels as round the turn they sweepJ2
Just graze Tim Whiffler's flanksB
Like the hunted deer that flies through the sheepJ2
He strides through the beaten ranksB
Daughter of Omen prove your birthK2
The colt will take lots of chokingG
The hot breath steams at your saddle girthK2
From his scarlet nostril smokingG
-
The shouts of the Ring for a space subsideO
And slackens the bookmaker's roarN
Now Davis rally now Carter rideO
As man never rode beforeN
When Sparrowhawk's backers cease to cheerH
When Yattendon's friends are dumbB2
When hushed is the clamour for VolunteerH
Alone in the race they comeB2
-
They're neck and neck they're head and headL2
They're stroke for stroke in the runningG
The whalebone whistles the steel is redL2
No shirking as yet nor shunningG
One effort Seagull the blood you boastM2
Should struggle when nerves are strainedN2
With a rush on the post by a neck at the mostM2
The verdict for Tim is gainedN2
-
Tim Whiffler wins Is blood aloneO2
The sine qua non for a flyerY
The breed of his dam is a myth unknownO2
And we've doubts respecting his sireY
Yet few if any those proud names areP2
On the pages of peerage or studQ2
In whose 'scutcheon lurks no sinister barP2
No taint of the base black bloodQ2
-
Aye Shorthouse laugh laugh loud and longF2
For pedigree you're a stickerY
You may be right I may be wrongF2
Wiseacres both Let's liquorY
Our common descent we may each recallR2
To a lady of old caught trippingG
The fair one in fig leaves who d d us allR2
For a bite at a golden pippinS2
-
When first on this rocky ledge I layB
There was scarce a ripple in yonder bayB
The air was serenely stillV
Each column that sailed from my swarthy clayB
Hung loitering long ere it passed awayB
Though the skies wore a tinge of leaden greyB
And the atmosphere was chillV
But the red sun sank to his evening shroudW
Where the western billows are roll'dT2
Behind a curtain of sable cloudW
With a fringe of scarlet and goldT2
There's a misty glare in the yellow moonU2
And the drift is scudding fastV2
There'll be storm and rattle and tempest soonU2
When the heavens are overcastV2
The neutral tint of the sullen seaB
Is fleck'd with the snowy foamW2
And the distant gale sighs drearilieV
As the wanderer sighs for his homeW2
The white sea horses toss their manesB
On the bar of the southern reefQ
And the breakers moan and by Jove it rainsB
I thought I should come to griefQ
Though it can't well damage my shabby hatX2
Though my coat looks best when it's dampY2
Since the shaking I got no matter where atX2
I've a mortal dread of the crampY2
My matches are wet my pipe's put outZ2
And the wind blows colder and strongerY
I'll be stiff and sore and sorry no doubtZ2
If I lie here any longerY

Adam Lindsay Gordon



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