The Station-master Of Lone Prairie Poem Rhyme Scheme

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An empty bench a sky of grayest etching	A
A bare bleak shed in blackest silhouette	B
Twelve years of platform and before them stretching	A
Twelve miles of prairie glimmering through the wet	B
	-
North south east west the same dull gray persistence	C
The tattered vapors of a vanished train	D
The narrowing rails that meet to pierce the distance	C
Or break the columns of the far off rain	D
	-
Naught but myself nor form nor figure breaking	A
The long hushed level and stark shining waste	E
Nothing that moves to fill the vision aching	A
When the last shadow fled in sullen haste	E
	-
Nothing beyond Ah yes From out the station	F
A stiff gaunt figure thrown against the sky	G
Beckoning me with some wooden salutation	F
Caught from his signals as the train flashed by	G
	-
Yielding me place beside him with dumb gesture	H
Born of that reticence of sky and air	I
We sit apart yet wrapped in that one vesture	I
Of silence sadness and unspoken care	I
	-
Each following his own thought around us darkening	A
The rain washed boundaries and stretching track	J
Each following those dim parallels and hearkening	J
For long lost voices that will not come back	J
	-
Until unasked I knew not why or wherefore	I
He yielded bit by bit his dreary past	K
Like gathered clouds that seemed to thicken there for	I
Some dull down dropping of their care at last	K
	-
Long had he lived there As a boy had started	L
From the stacked corn the Indian's painted face	M
Heard the wolves' howl the wearying waste that parted	L
His father's hut from the last camping place	M
	-
Nature had mocked him thrice had claimed the reaping	J
With scythe of fire of lands she once had sown	F
Sent the tornado round his hearthstone heaping	J
Rafters dead faces that were like his own	F
	-
Then came the War Time When its shadow beckoned	N
He had walked dumbly where the flag had led	O
Through swamp and fen unknown unpraised unreckoned	O
To famine fever and a prison bed	O
	-
Till the storm passed and the slow tide returning	J
Cast him a wreck beneath his native sky	J
Here at his watch gave him the chance of earning	J
Scant means to live who won the right to die	J
	-
All this I heard or seemed to hear half blending	J
With the low murmur of the coming breeze	P
The call of some lost bird and the unending	J
And tireless sobbing of those grassy seas	P
	-
Until at last the spell of desolation	F
Broke with a trembling star and far off cry	J
The coming train I glanced around the station	F
All was as empty as the upper sky	J
	-
Naught but myself nor form nor figure waking	J
The long hushed level and stark shining waste	O
Naught but myself that cry and the dull shaking	J
Of wheel and axle stopped in breathless haste	O
	-
Now then look sharp Eh what The Station Master	I
Thar's none We stopped here of our own accord	O
The man got killed in that down train disaster	I
This time last evening Right there All aboard	O

Bret Harte (francis)

The Station-master Of Lone Prairie Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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