To The Driving Cloud Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAACADA EACAFGAABAHIB JDKLCAAMNDI AAOLPAOADADQAAARIA

Gloomy and dark art thou O chief of the mighty OmahasA
Gloomy and dark as the driving cloud whose name thou hast takenB
Wrapt in thy scarlet blanket I see thee stalk through the city'sA
Narrow and populous streets as once by the margin of riversA
Stalked those birds unknown that have left us only theirC
footprintsA
What in a few short years will remain of thy race but theD
footprintsA
-
How canst thou walk these streets who hast trod the green turfE
of the prairiesA
How canst thou breathe this air who hast breathed the sweet airC
of the mountainsA
Ah 't is in vain that with lordly looks of disdain thou dostF
challengeG
Looks of disdain in return and question these walls and theseA
pavementsA
Claiming the soil for thy hunting grounds while down troddenB
millionsA
Starve in the garrets of Europe and cry from its caverns thatH
they tooI
Have been created heirs of the earth and claim its divisionB
-
Back then back to thy woods in the regions west of the WabashJ
There as a monarch thou reignest In autumn the leaves of theD
mapleK
Pave the floors of thy palace halls with gold and in summerL
Pine trees waft through its chambers the odorous breath of theirC
branchesA
There thou art strong and great a hero a tamer of horsesA
There thou chasest the stately stag on the banks of the ElkhornM
Or by the roar of the Running Water or where the OmahaN
Calls thee and leaps through the wild ravine like a brave of theD
BlackfeetI
-
Hark what murmurs arise from the heart of those mountainousA
desertsA
Is it the cry of the Foxes and Crows or the mighty BehemothO
Who unharmed on his tusks once caught the bolts of the thunderL
And now lurks in his lair to destroy the race of the red manP
Far more fatal to thee and thy race than the Crows and the FoxesA
Far more fatal to thee and thy race than the tread of BehemothO
Lo the big thunder canoe that steadily breasts the Missouri'sA
Merciless current and yonder afar on the prairies theD
camp firesA
Gleam through the night and the cloud of dust in the gray of theD
daybreakQ
Marks not the buffalo's track nor the Mandan's dexterousA
horse raceA
It is a caravan whitening the desert where dwell the CamanchesA
Ha how the breath of these Saxons and Celts like the blast ofR
the east windI
Drifts evermore to the west the scanty smokes of thy wigwamsA

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



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