A Newport Romance Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCB EFEF AAAA ABAB GBGB AAAA ABAB HIHI GJGJ AAAA AAAA AAAA KJKJ LHMN BABA OPOP AQAQ BABA

They say that she died of a broken heartA
I tell the tale as 'twas told to meB
But her spirit lives and her soul is partA
Of this sad old house by the seaB
-
Her lover was fickle and fine and FrenchC
It was nearly a hundred years agoD
When he sailed away from her arms poor wenchC
With the Admiral RochambeauB
-
I marvel much what periwigged phraseE
Won the heart of this sentimental QuakerF
At what gold laced speech of those modish daysE
She listened the mischief take herF
-
But she kept the posies of mignonetteA
That he gave and ever as their bloom failedA
And faded though with her tears still wetA
Her youth with their own exhaledA
-
Till one night when the sea fog wrapped a shroudA
Round spar and spire and tarn and treeB
Her soul went up on that lifted cloudA
From this sad old house by the seaB
-
And ever since then when the clock strikes twoG
She walks unbidden from room to roomB
And the air is filled that she passes throughG
With a subtle sad perfumeB
-
The delicate odor of mignonetteA
The ghost of a dead and gone bouquetA
Is all that tells of her story yetA
Could she think of a sweeter wayA
-
I sit in the sad old house to nightA
Myself a ghost from a farther seaB
And I trust that this Quaker woman mightA
In courtesy visit meB
-
For the laugh is fled from porch and lawnH
And the bugle died from the fort on the hillI
And the twitter of girls on the stairs is goneH
And the grand piano is stillI
-
Somewhere in the darkness a clock strikes twoG
And there is no sound in the sad old houseJ
But the long veranda dripping with dewG
And in the wainscot a mouseJ
-
The light of my study lamp streams outA
From the library door but has gone astrayA
In the depths of the darkened hall Small doubtA
But the Quakeress knows the wayA
-
Was it the trick of a sense o'erwroughtA
With outward watching and inward fretA
But I swear that the air just now was fraughtA
With the odor of mignonetteA
-
I open the window and seem almostA
So still lies the ocean to hear the beatA
Of its Great Gulf artery off the coastA
And to bask in its tropic heatA
-
In my neighbor's windows the gas lights flareK
As the dancers swing in a waltz of StraussJ
And I wonder now could I fit that airK
To the song of this sad old houseJ
-
And no odor of mignonette there isL
But the breath of morn on the dewy lawnH
And mayhap from causes as slight as thisM
The quaint old legend is bornN
-
But the soul of that subtle sad perfumeB
As the spiced embalmings they say outlastA
The mummy laid in his rocky tombB
Awakens my buried pastA
-
And I think of the passion that shook my youthO
Of its aimless loves and its idle painsP
And am thankful now for the certain truthO
That only the sweet remainsP
-
And I hear no rustle of stiff brocadeA
And I see no face at my library doorQ
For now that the ghosts of my heart are laidA
She is viewless for evermoreQ
-
But whether she came as a faint perfumeB
Or whether a spirit in stole of whiteA
I feel as I pass from the darkened roomB
She has been with my soul to nightA

Bret Harte



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