The Ballad Of The Harp-weaver Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCB DDED DBFBB GGCH DDID JKLKK GMDM NODO APDP QRDR STQT UOQOO AVDV FRDR DWFWW DXYX ZDQD SA2AA2 B2AFA SDSD DQDQ SC2D2C2 E2F2RF2 G2QF2QQ QH2QH2 QQZQ I2G2J2G2H AAF2A QFQF AQF2Q| Son said my mother | A |
| When I was knee high | B |
| you've need of clothes to cover you | C |
| and not a rag have I | B |
| - | |
| There's nothing in the house | D |
| To make a boy breeches | D |
| Nor shears to cut a cloth with | E |
| Nor thread to take stitches | D |
| - | |
| There's nothing in the house | D |
| But a loaf end of rye | B |
| And a harp with a woman's head | F |
| Nobody will buy | B |
| And she began to cry | B |
| - | |
| That was in the early fall | G |
| When came the late fall | G |
| Son she said the sight of you | C |
| Makes your mother's blood crawl mdash | H |
| - | |
| Little skinny shoulder blades | D |
| Sticking through your clothes | D |
| And where you'll get a jacket from | I |
| God above knows | D |
| - | |
| It's lucky for me lad | J |
| Your daddy's in the ground | K |
| And can't see the way I let | L |
| His son go around | K |
| And she made a queer sound | K |
| - | |
| That was in the late fall | G |
| When the winter came | M |
| I'd not a pair of breeches | D |
| Nor a shirt to my name | M |
| - | |
| I couldn't go to school | N |
| Or out of doors to play | O |
| And all the other little boys | D |
| Passed our way | O |
| - | |
| Son said my mother | A |
| Come climb into my lap | P |
| And I'll chafe your little bones | D |
| While you take a nap | P |
| - | |
| And oh but we were silly | Q |
| For half and hour or more | R |
| Me with my long legs | D |
| Dragging on the floor | R |
| - | |
| A rock rock rocking | S |
| To a mother goose rhyme | T |
| Oh but we were happy | Q |
| For half an hour's time | T |
| - | |
| But there was I a great boy | U |
| And what would folks say | O |
| To hear my mother singing me | Q |
| To sleep all day | O |
| In such a daft way | O |
| - | |
| Men say the winter | A |
| Was bad that year | V |
| Fuel was scarce | D |
| And food was dear | V |
| - | |
| A wind with a wolf's head | F |
| Howled about our door | R |
| And we burned up the chairs | D |
| And sat upon the floor | R |
| - | |
| All that was left us | D |
| Was a chair we couldn't break | W |
| And the harp with a woman's head | F |
| Nobody would take | W |
| For song or pity's sake | W |
| - | |
| The night before Christmas | D |
| I cried with cold | X |
| I cried myself to sleep | Y |
| Like a two year old | X |
| - | |
| And in the deep night | Z |
| I felt my mother rise | D |
| And stare down upon me | Q |
| With love in her eyes | D |
| - | |
| I saw my mother sitting | S |
| On the one good chair | A2 |
| A light falling on her | A |
| From I couldn't tell where | A2 |
| - | |
| Looking nineteen | B2 |
| And not a day older | A |
| And the harp with a woman's head | F |
| Leaned against her shoulder | A |
| - | |
| Her thin fingers moving | S |
| In the thin tall strings | D |
| Were weav weav weaving | S |
| Wonderful things | D |
| - | |
| Many bright threads | D |
| From where I couldn't see | Q |
| Were running through the harp strings | D |
| Rapidly | Q |
| - | |
| And gold threads whistling | S |
| Through my mother's hand | C2 |
| I saw the web grow | D2 |
| And the pattern expand | C2 |
| - | |
| She wove a child's jacket | E2 |
| And when it was done | F2 |
| She laid it on the floor | R |
| And wove another one | F2 |
| - | |
| She wove a red cloak | G2 |
| So regal to see | Q |
| She's made it for a king's son | F2 |
| I said and not for me | Q |
| But I knew it was for me | Q |
| - | |
| She wove a pair of breeches | Q |
| Quicker than that | H2 |
| She wove a pair of boots | Q |
| And a little cocked hat | H2 |
| - | |
| She wove a pair of mittens | Q |
| Shw wove a little blouse | Q |
| She wove all night | Z |
| In the still cold house | Q |
| - | |
| She sang as she worked | I2 |
| And the harp strings spoke | G2 |
| Her voice never faltered | J2 |
| And the thread never broke | G2 |
| And when I awoke mdash | H |
| - | |
| There sat my mother | A |
| With the harp against her shoulder | A |
| Looking nineteeen | F2 |
| And not a day older | A |
| - | |
| A smile about her lips | Q |
| And a light about her head | F |
| And her hands in the harp strings | Q |
| Frozen dead | F |
| - | |
| And piled beside her | A |
| And toppling to the skies | Q |
| Were the clothes of a king's son | F2 |
| Just my size | Q |
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(1)
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About The Ballad Of The Harp-weaver
The Ballad Of The Harp-weaver is a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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