Kitty Mccrae - A Galloping Rhyme Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCC DEDEFF GHGHII JKJLMN OPOPCC NQNQCC IFIFRS TUTUCC VWVWCC IXIXCC YZYZA2A2 JIJICC CB2CB2CC C2LC2LCC BCBCCC D2E2D2E2CC RNSNCC F2G2F2G2CC H2XH2XCC I2J2I2J2II JDJDCC K2L2K2L2CCThe Western sun ere he sought his lair | A |
Skimm d the treetops and glancing thence | B |
Rested awhile on the curling hair | A |
Of Kitty McCrae by the boundary fence | B |
Her eyes looked anxious her cheeks were pale | C |
For father was two hours late with the mail | C |
- | |
Never before had he been so late | D |
And Kitty wondered and wished him back | E |
Leaning athwart the big swing gate | D |
That opens out on the bridle track | E |
A tortuous path that sidled down | F |
From the single street of a mining town | F |
- | |
With her raven curls and her saucy smile | G |
Brown eyes that glow with a changeful light | H |
Tenderly trembling all the while | G |
Like a brace of stars on the breast of night | H |
Where could you find in the light of day | I |
A bonnier lassie than Kitty McCrae | I |
- | |
Born in the saddle this girl could ride | J |
Like the fearless queen of the silver bow | K |
And nothing that ever was lapped in hide | J |
Could frighten Kitty McCrae I trow | L |
She would wheel a mob in the hour of need | M |
If the Devil himself were in the lead | N |
- | |
But now in the shadows deepening | O |
When the last sun spark had ceas d to burn | P |
Afar she catches the sullen ring | O |
Of horse hoofs swinging around the turn | P |
Then painfully down the narrow trail | C |
Comes Alex McCrae with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
The fever and ague my girl he said | N |
'Twas all I got on that northern trip | Q |
When it left me then I was well nigh dead | N |
Has got me fast in its iron grip | Q |
And I'd rather rot in the nearest gaol | C |
Than ride to night with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
At Golden Gully they heard to day | I |
'Twas a common topic about the town | F |
That the Mulligan gang were around this way | I |
So they wouldn't despatch the gold dust down | F |
And Brown the manager said he thought | R |
'Twere wise to wait for a strong escort | S |
- | |
I rode the leaders the other nags | T |
I left with the coach at the Travellers' Rest | U |
Kitty my lass you must take the bags | T |
Postboy I reckon's about the best | U |
'Tis dark I know but he'll never fail | C |
To take you down with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
It needed no further voice to urge | V |
This dutiful daughter to eager haste | W |
She donned the habit of rough blue serge | V |
That hung in folds from her slender waist | W |
And Postboy stood by the stockyard rail | C |
While she mounted behind the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
Dark points the rest of him iron grey | I |
Boasting no strain of expensive blood | X |
Down steepest hill he could pick his way | I |
And never was baulked by a winter flood | X |
Strong as a lion hard as a nail | C |
Was the horse that carried the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
A nag that really seemed to be | Y |
Fit for a hundred miles at a push | Z |
With the old Manaro pedigree | Y |
By Furious Rising out of The Bush | Z |
Run in when a colt from a mountain mob | A2 |
By Brian O'Flynn and Dusty Bob | A2 |
- | |
And Postboy's bosom was filled with pride | J |
As he felt the form of his mistress sway | I |
In its easy grace to his swinging stride | J |
As he dashed along down the narrow way | I |
No prettier Mercury I'll go bail | C |
Than Kitty ere carried a Guv nment mail | C |
- | |
Leaving the edge of O'Connor's Hill | C |
They merrily scattered the drops of dew | B2 |
In the spanning of many a tiny rill | C |
Whose bubbling waters were hid from view | B2 |
In quick step time to the curlew's wail | C |
Rode Kitty McCrae with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
Sidling the Range by a narrow path | C2 |
Where towering mountain ash trees grow | L |
And a slip meant more than an icy bath | C2 |
In the tumbling waters that foamed below | L |
Through the white fog filling each silent vale | C |
Rode Kitty McCrae with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
The forest shadows became less dense | B |
They fairly flew down the river fall | C |
As out from the shade of an old brush fence | B |
Stepped three armed men with a sudden call | C |
Sharp and stern came the well known hail | C |
Stand for we want the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
Postboy swerved with a mighty bound | D2 |
As an outlaw clung to his bridle rein | E2 |
A hoof stroke flattened him on the ground | D2 |
With a curse that was half a cry of pain | E2 |
While Kitty trembling and rather pale | C |
Rode for life and the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
To save the bags was her only thought | R |
As she bent fore the whistle of angry lead | N |
That follow d the flash and the sharp report | S |
But Oh you cowards was all she said | N |
Fast as fast as the leaden hail | C |
Kitty rode on with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
Safe ah no for a tiny stream | F2 |
On Postboy's coat left its crimson mark | G2 |
Still she rode on but t'was in a dream | F2 |
Through lands where shadows fell drear and dark | G2 |
Like a wounded sea bird before the gale | C |
Fled Kitty McCrae with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
And ever the crimson life stream drips | H2 |
For every hoof stroke a drop of blood | X |
From feeble fingers the bridle slips | H2 |
As down the Warrigal Flat they scud | X |
And just where the Redbank workings lie | C |
She reels and falls with a feeble cry | C |
- | |
The old horse slacken d his racing pace | I2 |
When he found the saddle his only load | J2 |
And nervously sniffed at the still pure face | I2 |
That lay upturned in the dusty road | J2 |
Like a gathered rose in the heat of day | I |
She droop d and faded Kitty McCrae | I |
- | |
Did Postboy stay by the dead girl's side | J |
Not he Relieved of her feather weight | D |
He woke the echoes with measured stride | J |
Galloping up to the postal gate | D |
Blood dust and sweat from head to tail | C |
A riderless horse with the Greytown mail | C |
- | |
And now a river oak drooping weeps | K2 |
In ceaseless sorrow above the grave | L2 |
On the lush green flat where Kitty sleeps | K2 |
Hush d by the river's lapping wave | L2 |
That ever tells to the trees the tale | C |
Of how she rode with the Greytown mail | C |
Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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