Cicely Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABC DDBB EFBB GGHH BBBB BBBB HHBB BBII JJKK LLMM HHMM BBLL NNHH BBOO| Cicely says you're a poet maybe I ain't much on rhyme | A |
| I reckon you'd give me a hundred and beat me every time | A |
| Poetry that's the way some chaps puts up an idee | B |
| But I takes mine straight without sugar and that's what's the matter with me | C |
| - | |
| Poetry just look round you alkali rock and sage | D |
| Sage brush rock and alkali ain't it a pretty page | D |
| Sun in the east at mornin' sun in the west at night | B |
| And the shadow of this 'yer station the on'y thing moves in sight | B |
| - | |
| Poetry Well now Polly Polly run to your mam | E |
| Run right away my pooty By by Ain't she a lamb | F |
| Poetry that reminds me o' suthin' right in that suit | B |
| Jest shet that door thar will yer for Cicely's ears is cute | B |
| - | |
| Ye noticed Polly the baby A month afore she was born | G |
| Cicely my old woman was moody like and forlorn | G |
| Out of her head and crazy and talked of flowers and trees | H |
| Family man yourself sir Well you know what a woman be's | H |
| - | |
| Narvous she was and restless said that she couldn't stay | B |
| Stay and the nearest woman seventeen miles away | B |
| But I fixed it up with the doctor and he said he would be on hand | B |
| And I kinder stuck by the shanty and fenced in that bit o' land | B |
| - | |
| One night the tenth of October I woke with a chill and a fright | B |
| For the door it was standing open and Cicely warn't in sight | B |
| But a note was pinned on the blanket which it said that she couldn't stay | B |
| But had gone to visit her neighbor seventeen miles away | B |
| - | |
| When and how she stampeded I didn't wait for to see | H |
| For out in the road next minit I started as wild as she | H |
| Running first this way and that way like a hound that is off the scent | B |
| For there warn't no track in the darkness to tell me the way she went | B |
| - | |
| I've had some mighty mean moments afore I kem to this spot | B |
| Lost on the Plains in ' drownded almost and shot | B |
| But out on this alkali desert a hunting a crazy wife | I |
| Was ra'ly as on satis factory as anything in my life | I |
| - | |
| Cicely Cicely Cicely I called and I held my breath | J |
| And Cicely came from the canyon and all was as still as death | J |
| And Cicely Cicely Cicely came from the rocks below | K |
| And jest but a whisper of Cicely down from them peaks of snow | K |
| - | |
| I ain't what you call religious but I jest looked up to the sky | L |
| And this 'yer's to what I'm coming and maybe ye think I lie | L |
| But up away to the east'ard yaller and big and far | M |
| I saw of a suddent rising the singlerist kind of star | M |
| - | |
| Big and yaller and dancing it seemed to beckon to me | H |
| Yaller and big and dancing such as you never see | H |
| Big and yaller and dancing I never saw such a star | M |
| And I thought of them sharps in the Bible and I went for it then and thar | M |
| - | |
| Over the brush and bowlders I stumbled and pushed ahead | B |
| Keeping the star afore me I went wherever it led | B |
| It might hev been for an hour when suddent and peart and nigh | L |
| Out of the yearth afore me thar riz up a baby's cry | L |
| - | |
| Listen thar's the same music but her lungs they are stronger now | N |
| Than the day I packed her and her mother I'm derned if I jest know how | N |
| But the doctor kem the next minit and the joke o' the whole thing is | H |
| That Cis never knew what happened from that very night to this | H |
| - | |
| But Cicely says you're a poet and maybe you might some day | B |
| Jest sling her a rhyme 'bout a baby that was born in a curious way | B |
| And see what she says and old fellow when you speak of the star don't tell | O |
| As how 'twas the doctor's lantern for maybe 'twon't sound so well | O |
Bret Harte (francis)
(1)
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About Cicely
Cicely is a poem by Bret Harte (francis). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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