St. Thomas Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEFGG GGHB IIJJJJGGKL JJKKAAGG MMNNOOPPQQ GJGJBB GGGGIIRRJJ| A GEOGRAPHICAL SURVEY | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Very fair and full of promise | B |
| Lay the island of St Thomas | B |
| Ocean o'er its reefs and bars | C |
| Hid its elemental scars | C |
| Groves of cocoanut and guava | D |
| Grew above its fields of lava | D |
| So the gem of the Antilles | E |
| Isles of Eden where no ill is | F |
| Like a great green turtle slumbered | G |
| On the sea that it encumbered | G |
| - | |
| Then said William Henry Seward | G |
| As he cast his eye to leeward | G |
| Quite important to our commerce | H |
| Is this island of St Thomas | B |
| - | |
| Said the Mountain ranges Thank'ee | I |
| But we cannot stand the Yankee | I |
| O'er our scars and fissures poring | J |
| In our very vitals boring | J |
| In our sacred caverns prying | J |
| All our secret problems trying | J |
| Digging blasting with dynamit | G |
| Mocking all our thunders Damn it | G |
| Other lands may be more civil | K |
| Bust our lava crust if we will | L |
| - | |
| Said the Sea its white teeth gnashing | J |
| Through its coral reef lips flashing | J |
| Shall I let this scheming mortal | K |
| Shut with stone my shining portal | K |
| Curb my tide and check my play | A |
| Fence with wharves my shining bay | A |
| Rather let me be drawn out | G |
| In one awful waterspout | G |
| - | |
| Said the black browed Hurricane | M |
| Brooding down the Spanish Main | M |
| Shall I see my forces zounds | N |
| Measured by square inch and pounds | N |
| With detectives at my back | O |
| When I double on my track | O |
| And my secret paths made clear | P |
| Published o'er the hemisphere | P |
| To each gaping prying crew | Q |
| Shall I Blow me if I do | Q |
| - | |
| So the Mountains shook and thundered | G |
| And the Hurricane came sweeping | J |
| And the people stared and wondered | G |
| As the Sea came on them leaping | J |
| Each according to his promise | B |
| Made things lively at St Thomas | B |
| - | |
| Till one morn when Mr Seward | G |
| Cast his weather eye to leeward | G |
| There was not an inch of dry land | G |
| Left to mark his recent island | G |
| Not a flagstaff or a sentry | I |
| Not a wharf or port of entry | I |
| Only to cut matters shorter | R |
| Just a patch of muddy water | R |
| In the open ocean lying | J |
| And a gull above it flying | J |
Bret Harte
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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