On A Cone Of The Big Trees Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCBCB BDBDEFEF BGBGHDHD IJIJKBKB LGLGBBBB MNMNBOBO PQPQRNRN

Brown foundling of the Western woodA
Babe of primeval wildernessesB
Long on my table thou hast stoodA
Encounters strange and rude caressesB
Perchance contented with thy lotC
Surroundings new and curious facesB
As though ten centuries were notC
Imprisoned in thy shining casesB
-
Thou bring'st me back the halcyon daysB
Of grateful rest the week of leisureD
The journey lapped in autumn hazeB
The sweet fatigue that seemed a pleasureD
The morning ride the noonday haltE
The blazing slopes the red dust risingF
And then the dim brown columned vaultE
With its cool damp sepulchral spicingF
-
Once more I see the rocking mastsB
That scrape the sky their only tenantG
The jay bird that in frolic castsB
From some high yard his broad blue pennantG
I see the Indian files that keepH
Their places in the dusty heatherD
Their red trunks standing ankle deepH
In moccasins of rusty leatherD
-
I see all this and marvel muchI
That thou sweet woodland waif art ableJ
To keep the company of suchI
As throng thy friend's the poet's tableJ
The latest spawn the press hath castK
The modern popes the later ByronsB
Why e'en the best may not outlastK
Thy poor relation SempervirensB
-
Thy sire saw the light that shoneL
On Mohammed's uplifted crescentG
On many a royal gilded throneL
And deed forgotten in the presentG
He saw the age of sacred treesB
And Druid groves and mystic larchesB
And saw from forest domes like theseB
The builder bring his Gothic archesB
-
And must thou foundling still foregoM
Thy heritage and high ambitionN
To lie full lowly and full lowM
Adjusted to thy new conditionN
Not hidden in the drifted snowsB
But under ink drops idly spatteredO
And leaves ephemeral as thoseB
That on thy woodland tomb were scatteredO
-
Yet lie thou there O friend and speakP
The moral of thy simple storyQ
Though life is all that thou dost seekP
And age alone thy crown of gloryQ
Not thine the only germs that failR
The purpose of their high creationN
If their poor tenements availR
For worldly show and ostentationN

Bret Harte



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