John Smith Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDEFFGGHHIE JJBBKKLLMMNNOON PPOOOOQQRRSSTTO PPPPUUKKHHVVOOO BBPPWWXXPPPPPPOO YYPPNNOOZZPPPPO| To day I strayed in Charing Cross as wretched as could be | A |
| With thinking of my home and friends across the tumbling sea | A |
| There was no water in my eyes but my spirits were depressed | B |
| And my heart lay like a sodden soggy doughnut in my breast | B |
| This way and that streamed multitudes that gayly passed me by | C |
| Not one in all the crowd knew me and not a one knew I | C |
| 'Oh for a touch of home ' I sighed 'oh for a friendly face | D |
| Oh for a hearty handclasp in this teeming desert place ' | E |
| And so soliloquizing as a homesick creature will | F |
| Incontinent I wandered down the noisy bustling hill | F |
| And drifted automatic like and vaguely into Lowe's | G |
| Where Fortune had in store a panacea for my woes | G |
| The register was open and there dawned upon my sight | H |
| A name that filled and thrilled me with a cyclone of delight | H |
| The name that I shall venerate unto my dying day | I |
| The proud immortal signature 'John Smith U S A ' | E |
| - | |
| Wildly I clutched the register and brooded on that name | J |
| I knew John Smith yet could not well identify the same | J |
| I knew him North I knew him South I knew him East and West | B |
| I knew him all so well I knew not which I knew the best | B |
| His eyes I recollect were gray and black and brown and blue | K |
| And when he was not bald his hair was of chameleon hue | K |
| Lean fat tall short rich poor grave gay a blonde and a brunette | L |
| Aha amid this London fog John Smith I see you yet | L |
| I see you yet and yet the sight is all so blurred I seem | M |
| To see you in composite or as in a waking dream | M |
| Which are you John I'd like to know that I might weave a rhyme | N |
| Appropriate to your character your politics and clime | N |
| So tell me were you 'raised' or 'reared' your pedigree confess | O |
| In some such treacherous ism as 'I reckon' or 'I guess' | O |
| Let fall your tell tale dialect that instantly I may | N |
| Identify my countryman 'John Smith U S A ' | - |
| - | |
| It's like as not you are the John that lived a spell ago | P |
| Down East where codfish beans 'nd bona fide school marms grow | P |
| Where the dear old homestead nestles like among the Hampshire hills | O |
| And where the robin hops about the cherry boughs and trills | O |
| Where Hubbard squash 'nd huckleberries grow to powerful size | O |
| And everything is orthodox from preachers down to pies | O |
| Where the red wing blackbirds swing 'nd call beside the pickril pond | Q |
| And the crows air cawin' in the pines uv the pasture lot beyond | Q |
| Where folks complain uv bein' poor because their money's lent | R |
| Out West on farms 'nd railroads at the rate uv ten per cent | R |
| Where we ust to spark the Baker girls a comin' home from choir | S |
| Or a settin' namin' apples round the roarin' kitchen fire | S |
| Where we had to go to meetin' at least three times a week | T |
| And our mothers learnt us good religious Dr Watts to speak | T |
| And where our grandmas sleep their sleep God rest their souls I say | O |
| And God bless yours ef you're that John 'John Smith U S A ' | - |
| - | |
| Or mebbe Colonel Smith yo' are the gentleman I know | P |
| In the country whar the finest democrats 'nd horses grow | P |
| Whar the ladies are all beautiful an' whar the crap of cawn | P |
| Is utilized for Bourbon and true dawters are bawn | P |
| You've ren for jedge and killed yore man and bet on Proctor Knott | U |
| Yore heart is full of chivalry yore skin is full of shot | U |
| And I disremember whar I've met with gentlemen so true | K |
| As yo' all in Kaintucky whar blood an' grass are blue | K |
| Whar a niggah with a ballot is the signal fo' a fight | H |
| Whar a yaller dawg pursues the coon throughout the bammy night | H |
| Whar blooms the furtive 'possum pride an' glory of the South | V |
| And Aunty makes a hoe cake sah that melts within yo' mouth | V |
| Whar all night long the mockin' birds are warblin' in the trees | O |
| And black eyed Susans nod and blink at every passing breeze | O |
| Whar in a hallowed soil repose the ashes of our Clay | O |
| Hyar's lookin' at yo' Colonel 'John Smith U S A ' | - |
| - | |
| Or wuz you that John Smith I knew out yonder in the West | B |
| That part of our republic I shall always love the best | B |
| Wuz you him that went prospectin' in the spring of sixty nine | P |
| In the Red Hoss mountain country for the Gosh All Hemlock Mine | P |
| Oh how I'd like to clasp your hand an' set down by your side | W |
| And talk about the good old days beyond the big divide | W |
| Of the rackaboar the snaix the bear the Rocky Mountain goat | X |
| Of the conversazzhyony 'nd of Casey's tabble dote | X |
| And a word of them old pardners that stood by us long ago | P |
| Three Fingered Hoover Sorry Tom and Parson Jim you know | P |
| Old times old friends John Smith would make our hearts beat high again | P |
| And we'd see the snow top mountain like we used to see 'em then | P |
| The magpies would go flutterin' like strange sperrits to 'nd fro | P |
| And we'd hear the pines a singing' in the ragged gulch below | P |
| And the mountain brook would loiter like upon its windin' way | O |
| Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play | O |
| - | |
| You see John Smith just which you are I cannot well recall | Y |
| And really I am pleased to think you somehow must be all | Y |
| For when a man sojourns abroad awhile as I have done | P |
| He likes to think of all the folks he left at home as one | P |
| And so they are For well you know there's nothing in a name | N |
| Our Browns our Joneses and our Smiths are happily the same | N |
| All represent the spirit of the land across the sea | O |
| All stand for one high purpose in our country of the free | O |
| Whether John Smith be from the South the North the West the East | Z |
| So long as he's American it mattereth not the least | Z |
| Whether his crest be badger bear palmetto sword or pine | P |
| He is the glory of the stars that with the stripes combine | P |
| Where'er he be whate'er his lot he's eager to be known | P |
| Not by his mortal name but by his country's name alone | P |
| And so compatriot I am proud you wrote your name to day | O |
| Upon the register at Lowe's 'John Smith U S A ' | - |
Eugene Field
(1)
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