In Upper San Francisco Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AA BB CC DD EE FF AA EE GG EE HH I EE EE H HH JJ K H EE EE EE HH L EE| I heard that Heaven was bright and fair | A |
| And politicians dwelt not there | A |
| - | |
| 'Twas said by knowing ones that they | B |
| Were in the Elsewhere so to say | B |
| - | |
| So waking from my last long sleep | C |
| I took my place among the sheep | C |
| - | |
| I passed the gate Saint Peter eyed | D |
| Me sharply as I stepped inside | D |
| - | |
| He thought as afterward I learned | E |
| That I was Chris the Unreturned | E |
| - | |
| The new Jerusalem ah me | F |
| It was a sorry sight to see | F |
| - | |
| The mansions of the blest were there | A |
| And mostly they were fine and fair | A |
| - | |
| But O such streets so deep and wide | E |
| And all unpaved from side to side | E |
| - | |
| And in a public square there grew | G |
| A blighted tree most sad to view | G |
| - | |
| From off its trunk the bark was ripped | E |
| Its very branches all were stripped | E |
| - | |
| An angel perched upon the fence | H |
| With all the grace of indolence | H |
| - | |
| 'Celestial bird ' I cried in pain | I |
| 'What vandal wrought this wreck Explain ' | - |
| - | |
| He raised his eyelids as if tired | E |
| 'What is a Vandal ' he inquired | E |
| - | |
| 'This is the Tree of Life 'Twas stripped | E |
| By Durst and Siebe who have shipped | E |
| - | |
| 'The bark across the Jordan see | H |
| And sold it to a tannery ' | - |
| - | |
| 'Alas ' I sighed 'their old time tricks | H |
| That pavement too of golden bricks | H |
| - | |
| 'They've gobbled that ' But with a scowl | J |
| 'You greatly wrong them ' said the fowl | J |
| - | |
| ''Twas Gilleran did that I fear | K |
| Head of the Street Department here ' | - |
| - | |
| 'What what ' cried I 'you let such chaps | H |
| Come here You've Satan too perhaps ' | - |
| - | |
| 'We had him yes but off he went | E |
| Yet showed some purpose to repent | E |
| - | |
| 'But since your priests and parsons filled | E |
| The place with those their preaching killed' | E |
| - | |
| Here Siebe passed along with Durst | E |
| Psalming as if their lungs would burst | E |
| - | |
| 'He swears his foot no more shall press | H |
| 'Tis cloven anyhow I guess | H |
| - | |
| 'Our soil In short he's out on strike | L |
| But devils are not all alike ' | - |
| - | |
| Lo Gilleran came down the street | E |
| Pressing the soil with broad flat feet | E |
Ambrose Bierce
(1)
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