The Cotton Boll Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABACDEBCFFGFAGGAHFIE IJJKKHHE LMNNLOMOPPQFRSFTSRTU IUIVWIWVFXYZZA2YB2C2 XC2D2E2D2E2F2G2F2G2G 2KH2KH2G2I2G2J2MK2MK 2G2L2G2L2 M2PPWN2N2M2M2O2P2P2Q 2WWM2R2R2S2Q2T2U2U2F FV2W2W2S2O2X2X2Y2Y2Z 2Z2A3B3B3A3AGGAT2C3T 2D3D3E3NF3E3G3DUUH3I 3G3P2P2J3J3A3K3A3L3L 3R2R2K3Z2Z2A3A3

While I reclineA
At ease beneathB
This immemorial pineA
Small sphereC
By dusky fingers brought this morning hereD
And shown with boastful smilesE
I turn thy cloven sheathB
Through which the soft white fibres peerC
That with their gossamer bandsF
Unite like love the sea divided landsF
And slowly thread by threadG
Draw forth the folded strandsF
Than which the trembling lineA
By whose frail help yon startled spider fledG
Down the tall spear grass from his swinging bedG
Is scarce more fineA
And as the tangled skeinH
Unravels in my handsF
Betwixt me and the noonday lightI
A veil seems lifted and for miles and milesE
The landscape broadens on my sightI
As in the little boll there lurked a spellJ
Like that which in the ocean shellJ
With mystic soundK
Breaks down the narrow walls that hem us roundK
And turns some city laneH
Into the restless mainH
With all his capes and islesE
-
Yonder birdL
Which floats as if at restM
In those blue tracts above the thunder whereN
No vapors cloud the stainless airN
And never sound is heardL
Unless at such rare timeO
When from the City of the BlestM
Rings down some golden chimeO
Sees not from his high placeP
So vast a cirque of summer spaceP
As widens round me in one mighty fieldQ
Which rimmed by seas and sandsF
Doth hail its earliest daylight in the beamsR
Of gray Atlantic dawnsS
And broad as realms made up of many landsF
Is lost afarT
Behind the crimson hills and purple lawnsS
Of sunset among plains which roll their streamsR
Against the Evening StarT
And loU
To the remotest point of sightI
Although I gaze upon no waste of snowU
The endless field is whiteI
And the whole landscape glowsV
For many a shining league awayW
With such accumulated lightI
As Polar lands would flash beneath a tropic dayW
Nor lack there for the vision growsV
And the small charm within my handsF
More potent even than the fabled oneX
Which oped whatever golden mysteryY
Lay hid in fairy wood or magic valeZ
The curious ointment of the Arabian taleZ
Beyond all mortal senseA2
Doth stretch my sight's horizon and I seeY
Beneath its simple influenceB2
As if with Uriel's crownC2
I stood in some great temple of the SunX
And looked as Uriel downC2
Nor lack there pastures rich and fields all greenD2
With all the common gifts of GodE2
For temperate airs and torrid sheenD2
Weave Edens of the sodE2
Through lands which look one sea of billowy goldF2
Broad rivers wind their devious waysG2
A hundred isles in their embraces foldF2
A hundred luminous baysG2
And through yon purple hazeG2
Vast mountains lift their plumed peaks cloud crownedK
And save where up their sides the ploughman creepsH2
An unhewn forest girds them grandly roundK
In whose dark shades a future navy sleepsH2
Ye Stars which though unseen yet with me gazeG2
Upon this loveliest fragment of the earthI2
Thou Sun that kindlest all thy gentlest raysG2
Above it as to light a favorite hearthJ2
Ye Clouds that in your temples in the WestM
See nothing brighter than its humblest flowersK2
And you ye Winds that on the ocean's breastM
Are kissed to coolness ere ye reach its bowersK2
Bear witness with me in my song of praiseG2
And tell the world that since the world beganL2
No fairer land hath fired a poet's laysG2
Or given a home to manL2
-
But these are charms already widely blownM2
His be the meed whose pencil's traceP
Hath touched our very swamps with graceP
And round whose tuneful wayW
All Southern laurels bloomN2
The Poet of 'The Woodlands' unto whomN2
Alike are knownM2
The flute's low breathing and the trumpet's toneM2
And the soft west wind's sighsO2
But who shall utter all the debtP2
O Land wherein all powers are metP2
That bind a people's heartQ2
The world doth owe thee at this dayW
And which it never can repayW
Yet scarcely deigns to ownM2
Where sleeps the poet who shall fitly singR2
The source wherefrom doth springR2
That mighty commerce which confinedS2
To the mean channels of no selfish martQ2
Goes out to every shoreT2
Of this broad earth and throngs the sea with shipsU2
That bear no thunders hushes hungry lipsU2
In alien landsF
Joins with a delicate web remotest strandsF
And gladdening rich and poorV2
Doth gild Parisian domesW2
Or feed the cottage smoke of English homesW2
And only bounds its blessings by mankindS2
In offices like these thy mission liesO2
My Country and it shall not endX2
As long as rain shall fall and Heaven bendX2
In blue above thee though thy foes be hardY2
And cruel as their weapons it shall guardY2
Thy hearth stones as a bulwark make thee greatZ2
In white and bloodless stateZ2
And haply as the years increaseA3
Still working through its humbler reachB3
With that large wisdom which the ages teachB3
Revive the half dead dream of universal peaceA3
As men who labor in that mineA
Of Cornwall hollowed out beneath the bedG
Of ocean when a storm rolls overheadG
Hear the dull booming of the world of brineA
Above them and a mighty muffled roarT2
Of winds and waters yet toil calmly onC3
And split the rock and pile the massive oreT2
Or carve a niche or shape the arch 'ed roofD3
So I as calmly weave my woofD3
Of song chanting the days to comeE3
Unsilenced though the quiet summer airN
Stirs with the bruit of battles and each dawnF3
Wakes from its starry silence to the humE3
Of many gathering armies StillG3
In that we sometimes hearD
Upon the Northern winds the voice of woeU
Not wholly drowned in triumph though I knowU
The end must crown us and a few brief yearsH3
Dry all our tearsI3
I may not sing too gladly To Thy willG3
Resigned O Lord we cannot all forgetP2
That there is much even Victory must regretP2
And therefore not too longJ3
From the great burthen of our country's wrongJ3
Delay our just releaseA3
And if it may be saveK3
These sacred fields of peaceA3
From stain of patriot or of hostile bloodL3
Oh help us Lord to roll the crimson floodL3
Back on its course and while our banners wingR2
Northward strike with us till the Goth shall clingR2
To his own blasted altar stones and craveK3
Mercy and we shall grant it and dictateZ2
The lenient future of his fateZ2
There where some rotting ships and crumbling quaysA3
Shall one day mark the Port which ruled the Western seasA3

Henry Timrod



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