Autumn At The Orchard Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBCCDDEEFFDGDD HHIIDDDD JJKKLLDD| e pear trees are invitin' everyone t' come an' shake | A |
| Now the gorgeous tints of autumn are appearin' everywhere | B |
| Till it seems that you can almost see the Master Painter there | B |
| There's a solemn sort o' stillness that's pervadin' every thing | C |
| Save the farewell songs to summer that the feathered tenors sing | C |
| An' you quite forget the city where disgruntled folks are kickin' | D |
| Off yonder with the Pelletiers when spies are ripe fer pickin' | D |
| The Holsteins are a posin' in a clearin' near a wood | E |
| Very dignified an' stately just as though they understood | E |
| That they're lending to life's pictures just the touch the Master needs | F |
| An' they're preachin' more refinement than a lot o' printed creeds | F |
| The orchard's fairly groanin' with the gifts o' God to man | D |
| Just as though they meant to shame us who have doubted once | G |
| His plan Oh there's somethin' most inspirin' to a soul in need o' prickin' | D |
| Off yonder with the Pelletiers when spies are ripe fer pickin' | D |
| - | |
| The frisky little Shetlands now are growin' shaggy coats | H |
| An' acquirin' silken mufflers of their own to guard their throats | H |
| An' a Russian wolf hound puppy left its mother yesterday | I |
| An' a tinge o' sorrow touched us as we saw it go away | I |
| For the sight was full o' meanin' an' we knew when it had gone | D |
| 'Twas a symbol of the partin's that the years are bringin' on | D |
| Oh a feller must be better to his faith he can't help stickin' | D |
| Off yonder with the Pelletiers when spies are ripe fer pickin' | D |
| - | |
| The year is almost over now at dusk the valleys glow | J |
| With the misty mantle chillin' that is hangin' very low | J |
| An' each mornin' sees the maples just a little redder turned | K |
| Than they were the night we left 'em an' the elms are browner burned | K |
| An' a feller can't help feelin' an' I don't care who it is | L |
| That the mind that works such wonders has a greater power than his | L |
| Oh I know that I'll remember till life's last few sparks are flickin' | D |
| The lessons out at Pelletiers when spies were ripe for pickin' | D |
Edgar Albert Guest
(1)
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