Miss Blanche Says Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDEDDDE FGFGHEHHHE IJIKLBLLLB MEMENENONE PQPQRSRRRS TUTURERRRE VWVWXEXXXE YUYUZEZZZE A2UA2UYA2YYYA2 A2B2A2C2A2D2A2A2A2E2| And you are the poet and so you want | A |
| Something what is it a theme a fancy | B |
| Something or other the Muse won't grant | C |
| To your old poetical necromancy | B |
| Why one half you poets you can't deny | D |
| Don't know the Muse when you chance to meet her | E |
| But sit in your attics and mope and sigh | D |
| For a faineant goddess to drop from the sky | D |
| When flesh and blood may be standing by | D |
| Quite at your service should you but greet her | E |
| - | |
| What if I told you my own romance | F |
| Women are poets if you so take them | G |
| One third poet the rest what chance | F |
| Of man and marriage may choose to make them | G |
| Give me ten minutes before you go | H |
| Here at the window we'll sit together | E |
| Watching the currents that ebb and flow | H |
| Watching the world as it drifts below | H |
| Up the hot Avenue's dusty glow | H |
| Isn't it pleasant this bright June weather | E |
| - | |
| Well it was after the war broke out | I |
| And I was a schoolgirl fresh from Paris | J |
| Papa had contracts and roamed about | I |
| And I did nothing for I was an heiress | K |
| Picked some lint now I think perhaps | L |
| Knitted some stockings a dozen nearly | B |
| Havelocks made for the soldiers' caps | L |
| Stood at fair tables and peddled traps | L |
| Quite at a profit The shoulder straps | L |
| Thought I was pretty Ah thank you really | B |
| - | |
| Still it was stupid Rata tat tat | M |
| Those were the sounds of that battle summer | E |
| Till the earth seemed a parchment round and flat | M |
| And every footfall the tap of a drummer | E |
| And day by day down the Avenue went | N |
| Cavalry infantry all together | E |
| Till my pitying angel one day sent | N |
| My fate in the shape of a regiment | O |
| That halted just as the day was spent | N |
| Here at our door in the bright June weather | E |
| - | |
| None of your dandy warriors they | P |
| Men from the West but where I know not | Q |
| Haggard and travel stained worn and gray | P |
| With never a ribbon or lace or bow knot | Q |
| And I opened the window and leaning there | R |
| I felt in their presence the free winds blowing | S |
| My neck and shoulders and arms were bare | R |
| I did not dream they might think me fair | R |
| But I had some flowers that night in my hair | R |
| And here on my bosom a red rose glowing | S |
| - | |
| And I looked from the window along the line | T |
| Dusty and dirty and grim and solemn | U |
| Till an eye like a bayonet flash met mine | T |
| And a dark face shone from the darkening column | U |
| And a quick flame leaped to my eyes and hair | R |
| Till cheeks and shoulders burned all together | E |
| And the next I found myself standing there | R |
| With my eyelids wet and my cheeks less fair | R |
| And the rose from my bosom tossed high in air | R |
| Like a blood drop falling on plume and feather | E |
| - | |
| Then I drew back quickly there came a cheer | V |
| A rush of figures a noise and tussle | W |
| And then it was over and high and clear | V |
| My red rose bloomed on his gun's black muzzle | W |
| Then far in the darkness a sharp voice cried | X |
| And slowly and steadily all together | E |
| Shoulder to shoulder and side to side | X |
| Rising and falling and swaying wide | X |
| But bearing above them the rose my pride | X |
| They marched away in the twilight weather | E |
| - | |
| And I leaned from my window and watched my rose | Y |
| Tossed on the waves of the surging column | U |
| Warmed from above in the sunset glows | Y |
| Borne from below by an impulse solemn | U |
| Then I shut the window I heard no more | Z |
| Of my soldier friend nor my flower neither | E |
| But lived my life as I did before | Z |
| I did not go as a nurse to the war | Z |
| Sick folks to me are a dreadful bore | Z |
| So I didn't go to the hospital either | E |
| - | |
| You smile O poet and what do you | A2 |
| You lean from your window and watch life's column | U |
| Trampling and struggling through dust and dew | A2 |
| Filled with its purposes grave and solemn | U |
| And an act a gesture a face who knows | Y |
| Touches your fancy to thrill and haunt you | A2 |
| And you pluck from your bosom the verse that grows | Y |
| And down it flies like my red red rose | Y |
| And you sit and dream as away it goes | Y |
| And think that your duty is done now don't you | A2 |
| - | |
| I know your answer I'm not yet through | A2 |
| Look at this photograph In the Trenches | B2 |
| That dead man in the coat of blue | A2 |
| Holds a withered rose in his hand That clenches | C2 |
| Nothing except that the sun paints true | A2 |
| And a woman is sometimes prophetic minded | D2 |
| And that's my romance And poet you | A2 |
| Take it and mould it to suit your view | A2 |
| And who knows but you may find it too | A2 |
| Come to your heart once more as mine did | E2 |
Bret Harte
(1)
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About Miss Blanche Says
Miss Blanche Says is a poem by Bret Harte. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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