The Happy Harvesters. - A Cantata Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCDBBEFGGHHBBDDBBBB IIJJBBKKBBBBLLMM M NLOPL QRBBR SITTU BVBBV LWIIW LVXYV ZLA2A2L BB2LLB2 DC2D2D2C2 A BBBBLLE2E2 I IF2IF2BBII LBLB IIII IBIBBBII A LLE2E2BBIIBBG2G2LL H2 BBBI2BBBI2 J2J2J2A2BBBA2 BBBG2BBBG2 LLL BBBBB G PPIIKKK2K2IIOOIIL2L2 KKE2E2II G M2RLRBGGGGF2N2N2F2 O2BBBBGIGGF2N2N2F2 P2BLBBGIGGF2N2N2F2 G BBA2A2Q2Q2KKR2R2LLS2 S2T2U2 GGV2V2A2I G2 G2G2G2ILLLI G2G2G2ILLLI LLL IQQQI G E2E2IILLVVG2G2GG W2 X2X2KK GGKK LLGI LLY2 BBM2M2 GGZ2Z2 G KKA2A2BBGGLLG2G2E2E2| I | A |
| - | |
| Autumn like an old poet in a haze | B |
| Of golden visions dreams away his days | B |
| So Hafiz like that one may almost hear | C |
| The singer's thoughts imbue the atmosphere | D |
| Sweet as the dreamings of the nightingales | B |
| Ere yet their songs have waked the eastern vales | B |
| Or stirred the airy echoes of the wood | E |
| That haunt the forest's social solitude | F |
| His thoughts are pastorals his days are rife | G |
| With the calm wisdom of that inner life | G |
| That makes the poet heir to worlds unknown | H |
| All space his empire and the sun his throne | H |
| As the bee stores the sweetness of the flowers | B |
| So into autumn's variegated hours | B |
| Is hived the Hybla richness of the year | D |
| Choice souls imbibing the ambrosial cheer | D |
| As autumn seated on the highest hills | B |
| Gleans honied secrets from the passing rills | B |
| While from below the harvest canzonas | B |
| Link vale to mountain with a chain of praise | B |
| Foremost among the honoured sons of toil | I |
| Are they who overcome the stubborn soil | I |
| Brave Cincinnatus in his country home | J |
| Was even greater than when lord of Rome | J |
| Down sinks the sun behind the lofty pines | B |
| That skirt the mountain like the straggling lines | B |
| Of Ceres' army looking from the height | K |
| On the dim lowlands deepening into night | K |
| Soft featured twilight peering through the maze | B |
| Sees the first starbeam pierce the purple haze | B |
| Through all the vales the vespers of the birds | B |
| Cheer the young shepherds homeward with their herds | B |
| And the stout axles of the heavy wain | L |
| Creak 'neath the fulness of the ripened grain | L |
| As the swarth builders of the precious load | M |
| Returning homewards sing their Autumn Ode | M |
| - | |
| - | |
| AUTUMN ODE | M |
| - | |
| God of the Harvest Thou whose sun | N |
| Has ripened all the golden grain | L |
| We bless Thee for Thy bounteous store | O |
| The cup of Plenty running o'er | P |
| The sunshine and the rain | L |
| - | |
| The year laughs out for very joy | Q |
| Its silver treble echoing | R |
| Like a sweet anthem through the woods | B |
| Till mellowed by the solitudes | B |
| It folds its glossy wing | R |
| - | |
| But our united voices blend | S |
| From day to day unweariedly | I |
| Sure as the sun rolls up the morn | T |
| Or twilight from the eve is born | T |
| Our song ascends to Thee | U |
| - | |
| Where'er the various tinted woods | B |
| In all their autumn splendour dressed | V |
| Impart their gold and purple dyes | B |
| To distant hills and farthest skies | B |
| Along the crimson west | V |
| - | |
| Across the smooth extended plain | L |
| By rushing stream and broad lagoon | W |
| On shady height and sunny dale | I |
| Wherever scuds the balmy gale | I |
| Or gleams the autumn moon | W |
| - | |
| From inland seas of yellow grain | L |
| Where cheerful Labour heaven blest | V |
| With willing hands and keen edged scythe | X |
| And accents musically blythe | Y |
| Reveals its lordly crest | V |
| - | |
| From clover fields and meadows wide | Z |
| Where moves the richly laden wain | L |
| To barns well stored with new made hay | A2 |
| Or where the flail at early day | A2 |
| Rolls out the ripened grain | L |
| - | |
| From meads and pastures on the hills | B |
| And in the mountain valleys deep | B2 |
| Alive with beeves and sweet breathed kine | L |
| Of famous Ayr or Devon's line | L |
| And shepherd guarded sheep | B2 |
| - | |
| The spirits of the golden year | D |
| From crystal caves and grottoes dim | C2 |
| From forest depths and mossy sward | D2 |
| Myriad tongued with one accord | D2 |
| Peal forth their harvest hymn | C2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| Their daily labour in the happy fields | B |
| A two fold crop of grain and pleasure yields | B |
| While round their hearths before their evening fires | B |
| Whore comfort reigns whence weariness retires | B |
| The level tracts denuded of their grain | L |
| In calm dispute are bravely shorn again | L |
| Till some rough reaper on a tide of song | E2 |
| Like a bold pirate captivates the throng | E2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| A SONG FOR THE FLAIL | I |
| - | |
| A song a song for the good old Flail | I |
| And the brawny arms that wield it | F2 |
| Hearty and hale in our yeoman mail | I |
| Like intrepid knights we'll shield it | F2 |
| We are old nature's peers | B |
| Right royal cavaliers | B |
| Knights of the Plough for no Golden Fleece we sail | I |
| We're Princes in our own right our sceptre is the Flail | I |
| - | |
| A song a song for the golden grain | L |
| As it wooes the flail's embraces | B |
| In wavy sheaves like a golden main | L |
| With its bright spray in our faces | B |
| - | |
| Mirth hastens at our call | I |
| Jovial hearts have we all | I |
| Knights of the Plough for no Golden Fleece we sail | I |
| We're Princes in our own right our sceptre is the Flail | I |
| - | |
| A song a song for the good old Flail | I |
| That our fathers used before us | B |
| A song for the Flail and the faces hale | I |
| Of the queenly dames that bore us | B |
| We are old nature's peers | B |
| Right royal cavaliers | B |
| Knights of the Plough for no Golden Fleece we sail | I |
| We're Princes in our own right our sceptre is the Flail | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| III | A |
| - | |
| Fair was the maid and lovely as the morn | L |
| From starry Night and rosy Twilight born | L |
| Within whose mind a rivulet of song | E2 |
| Rehearsed the strains that from her lips ere long | E2 |
| Welled free and sparkling as the vocal woods | B |
| Repeat the day spring's sweetest interludes | B |
| Her gentle eyes' serenest depths of blue | I |
| Shrined love and truth and all their retinue | I |
| The health and beauty of her youthful face | B |
| Made it the Harem of each maiden grace | B |
| And such perfection blended with her air | G2 |
| She seemed some stately Goddess moving there | G2 |
| Beholding her you thought she might have been | L |
| The long lost flower loving Proserpine | L |
| - | |
| - | |
| AN AUTUMN CHANGE | H2 |
| - | |
| Oh dreamy autumn days | B |
| I seek your faded ways | B |
| As one who calmly strays | B |
| Through visions of the past | I2 |
| I walk the golden hours | B |
| And where I gathered flowers | B |
| The stricken leaves in showers | B |
| Are hurled upon the blast | I2 |
| - | |
| Thus mused the lonely maid | J2 |
| As through the autumn glade | J2 |
| With pensive heart she strayed | J2 |
| Regretting Love's delay | A2 |
| In vain the traitor flies | B |
| To pleading lips and eyes | B |
| Sweet looks and tender sighs | B |
| He falls an easy prey | A2 |
| - | |
| Oh dreamy autumn days | B |
| I tread your bridal ways | B |
| As one who homeward strays | B |
| Through realms divinely fair | G2 |
| I walk Love's radiant hours | B |
| Fragrant with passion flowers | B |
| And blessings fall like dowers | B |
| Down the elysian air | G2 |
| - | |
| Thus mused the maiden now | L |
| With sunny heart and brow | L |
| For Love had turned his prow | L |
| - | |
| Towards the Golden Isles | B |
| Where from Pierean springs | B |
| The soul of Music sings | B |
| Its sweet imaginings | B |
| Through all the Land of Smiles | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| IV | G |
| - | |
| Up the wide chimney rolls the social fire | P |
| Warming the hearts of matron youth and sire | P |
| Painting such grotesque shadows on the wall | I |
| The stripling looms a giant stout and tall | I |
| While they whose statures reach the common height | K |
| Seem spectres mocking the hilarious night | K |
| From hand to hand the ripened fruit went round | K2 |
| And rural sports a pleased acceptance found | K2 |
| The youthful fiddler on his three legged stool | I |
| Fancied himself at least an Ole Bull | I |
| Some easy bumpkin seated on the floor | O |
| Hunted the slipper till his ribs were sore | O |
| Some chose the graceful waltz or lively reel | I |
| While deeper heads the chess battalions wheel | I |
| Till some old veteran compelled to yield | L2 |
| More brave than skilful vanquished quits the field | L2 |
| As a flushed harper when the doubtful fight | K |
| Favors the prowess of some stately knight | K |
| In stirring numbers of triumphal song | E2 |
| Upholds the spirits of the victor throng | E2 |
| A sturdy ploughboy wedded to the soil | I |
| Thus sung the praises of the partner of his toil | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| - | |
| THE SOLDIERS OF THE PLOUGH | G |
| - | |
| No maiden dream nor fancy theme | M2 |
| Brown Labour's muse would sing | R |
| Her stately mien and russet sheen | L |
| Demand a stronger wing | R |
| Long ages since the sage the prince | B |
| The man of lordly brow | G |
| All honour gave that army brave | G |
| The Soldiers of the Plough | G |
| Kind heaven speed the Plough | G |
| And bless the hands that guide it | F2 |
| God gives the seed | N2 |
| The bread we need | N2 |
| Man's labour must provide it | F2 |
| - | |
| In every land the toiling hand | O2 |
| Is blest as it deserves | B |
| Not so the race who in disgrace | B |
| From honest labour swerves | B |
| From fairest bowers bring rarest flowers | B |
| To deck the swarthy brow | G |
| Of those whose toil improves the soil | I |
| The Soldiers of the Plough | G |
| Kind heaven speed the Plough | G |
| And bless the hands that guide it | F2 |
| God gives the seed | N2 |
| The bread we need | N2 |
| Man's labour must provide it | F2 |
| - | |
| Blest is his lot in hall or cot | P2 |
| Who lives as nature wills | B |
| Who pours his corn from Ceres' horn | L |
| And quaffs his native rills | B |
| No breeze that sweeps trade's stormy deeps | B |
| Can touch his golden prow | G |
| Their foes are few their lives are true | I |
| The Soldiers of the Plough | G |
| Kind heaven speed the Plough | G |
| And bless the hands that guide it | F2 |
| God gives the seed | N2 |
| The bread we need | N2 |
| Man's labour must provide it | F2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| V | G |
| - | |
| Fast sped the rushing chariot of the Hours | B |
| Without the Harvest Moon through fleecy bowers | B |
| Of hazy cloudlets swept her graceful way | A2 |
| Proud as an empress on her marriage day | A2 |
| The admiring planets lit her stately march | Q2 |
| With smiles that gleamed along the silent arch | Q2 |
| And all the starry midnight blazed with light | K |
| As if 'twere earth and heaven's nuptial night | K |
| The cock crowed certain that the day had broke | R2 |
| The aged house dog suddenly awoke | R2 |
| And bayed so loud a challenge to the moon | L |
| From the old orchard fled the thievish 'coon | L |
| Within the lightest hearts that ever beat | S2 |
| Still found their harmless pleasures pure and sweet | S2 |
| The fire still burned on the capacious hearth | T2 |
| In sympathy with the redundant mirth | U2 |
| - | |
| Old graybeards felt the glow of youth revive | G |
| Old matrons smiled upon the human hive | G |
| Where life's rare nectar fit for gods to sip | V2 |
| In forfeit kisses passed from lip to lip | V2 |
| Be hushed rude Mirth as merry as the May | A2 |
| Is she who comes to sing her roundelay | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| CLAIRE | G2 |
| - | |
| Whither now blushing Claire | G2 |
| Maid of the sylph like air | G2 |
| Blooming and debonair | G2 |
| Whither so early | I |
| Chasing the merry morn | L |
| Down through the golden corn | L |
| List'ning the hunter's horn | L |
| Ring through the barley | I |
| - | |
| Flowerets fresh and fair | G2 |
| Answered the blushing Claire | G2 |
| Fit for my bridal hair | G2 |
| Bloom 'mongst the barley | I |
| Hark 'tis the hunter's horn | L |
| Waking the sylvan morn | L |
| And through the yellow corn | L |
| Comes my brave Charlie | I |
| - | |
| Through the dew dripping grain | L |
| Pressed the heart stricken swain | L |
| Crushed with a weight of pain | L |
| - | |
| Drooped like the barley | I |
| Ah timid shepherd boy | Q |
| Man's love should ne'er be coy | Q |
| Sweet is Claire's maiden joy | Q |
| Kissing her Charlie | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| VI | G |
| - | |
| A pleasant soul as ever trilled a song | E2 |
| Was hers who warbled Claire All the day long | E2 |
| Her voice was ringing like a bridal bell | I |
| Gladness and joy leaped up at every swell | I |
| And love was deeper warmer for the tone | L |
| That clasped the heart like an enchanted zone | L |
| A youth was there more comely than the rest | V |
| One who could turn a furrow with the best | V |
| Compete for manly strength and portly air | G2 |
| Or wield a scythe with any reaper there | G2 |
| The spirit of her voice had moved above | G |
| The waters of his soul and waked his song to Love | G |
| - | |
| - | |
| BALLAD | W2 |
| - | |
| Come tell me merry Brooklet of a gentle Maid I seek | X2 |
| Thou'lt know her by the freshness of the rose upon her cheek | X2 |
| Her eyes are chaste and tender and so serenely bright | K |
| You can read her heart's pure secrets by their warm religious light | K |
| - | |
| The Maid has not come hither said the Brooklet in reply | G |
| I've listened for her footfall ere the stars were in the sky | G |
| The Fountain has been singing of a Maid with eyes so bright | K |
| You may read the cherished secrets of her bosom by their light | K |
| - | |
| Pray tell me merry Brooklet what saith her thoughts of one | L |
| Who wronged her loving nature ere the setting of the sun | L |
| What say they of yon autumn moon that smiles so mournfully | G |
| On the slowly dying season and the blasted moorland tree | I |
| - | |
| She sitteth by the Fountain the Brook replied again | L |
| Her heart as pure as heaven and her thoughts without a stain | L |
| 'Oh fickle moon and changeful man ' she saith 'a year ago | Y2 |
| All the paths were true love lighted where I'm groping now in woe ' | - |
| - | |
| She sitteth by the Fountain the gentle mists arise | B |
| And kiss away the tear pearls that tremble in her eyes | B |
| The Fountain singeth to me that the Maiden in her dream | M2 |
| Shrinks as the vapours claim her as the Oread of the stream | M2 |
| - | |
| Off sped the merry Streamlet adown the sloping vale | G |
| The Shepherd seeks the Fountain where sits the Maiden pale | G |
| And to the wandering Brooklet through many a lonely wild | Z2 |
| The burden of the Fountain was that Love was reconciled | Z2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| VII | G |
| - | |
| But soon the Morn on many a distant height | K |
| Fingers the raven locks of lingering Night | K |
| The last dark shadows that precede the day | A2 |
| Have stripped the splendour from the Milky Way | A2 |
| And Nature seems disturbed by fitful dreams | B |
| As one who shudders when the owlet screams | B |
| The painful burden of the Whippoorwill | G |
| Like a vague Sorrow floats from hill to hill | G |
| Along the vales the doleful accents run | L |
| Where the white vapours dread the burning sun | L |
| While human voices stir the haunted air | G2 |
| One sings the Plough another warbles Claire | G2 |
| The Happy Harvesters a lightsome throng | E2 |
| Dispersing homewards prove the excellence of Song | E2 |
Charles Sangster
(1)
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About The Happy Harvesters. - A Cantata
The Happy Harvesters. - A Cantata is a poem by Charles Sangster. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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