Mogg Megone - Part Ii. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEFFEGGFHHFIFII JFFJJFKK DDLLCMNFFHHOOPPHOHOO GGOOFFFFQQ FFOOFCFHHFCOOCCOOLLR RROO HHSSFGFGGGCCFDFEETOT OHHHHEEGGOOGGFFFFFF GGHHHHUUEGEGFFHGGHHH FFCLLCOVVGGHHHOGGO GGFFFFEEWFGGWFRRFEFE FF OQQOOOOOFFFFF CFCCFCF GOOGOOLOLFF QFQFFQFFF| 'Tis morning over Norridgewock | A |
| On tree and wigwam wave and rock | A |
| Bathed in the autumnal sunshine stirred | B |
| At intervals by breeze and bird | B |
| And wearing all the hues which glow | C |
| In heaven's own pure and perfect bow | D |
| That glorious picture of the air | E |
| Which summer's light robed angel forms | F |
| On the dark ground of fading storms | F |
| With pencil dipped in sunbeams there | E |
| And stretching out on either hand | G |
| O'er all that wide and unshorn land | G |
| Till weary of its gorgeousness | F |
| The aching and the dazzled eye | H |
| Rests gladdened on the calm blue sky | H |
| Slumbers the mighty wilderness | F |
| The oak upon the windy hill | I |
| Its dark green burthen upward heaves | F |
| The hemlock broods above its rill | I |
| Its cone like foliage darker still | I |
| Against the birch's graceful stem | J |
| And the rough walnut bough receives | F |
| The sun upon its crowded leaves | F |
| Each colored like a topaz gem | J |
| And the tall maple wears with them | J |
| The coronal which autumn gives | F |
| The brief bright sign of ruin near | K |
| The hectic of a dying year | K |
| - | |
| The hermit priest who lingers now | D |
| On the Bald Mountain's shrubless brow | D |
| The gray and thunder smitten pile | L |
| Which marks afar the Desert Isle | L |
| While gazing on the scene below | C |
| May half forget the dreams of home | M |
| That nightly with his slumbers come | N |
| The tranquil skies of sunny France | F |
| The peasant's harvest song and dance | F |
| The vines around the hillsides wreathing | H |
| The soft airs midst their clusters breathing | H |
| The wings which dipped the stars which shone | O |
| Within thy bosom blue Garonne | O |
| And round the Abbey's shadowed wall | P |
| At morning spring and even fall | P |
| Sweet voices in the still air singing | H |
| The chant of many a holy hymn | O |
| The solemn bell of vespers ringing | H |
| And hallowed torchlight falling dim | O |
| On pictured saint and seraphim | O |
| For here beneath him lies unrolled | G |
| Bathed deep in morning's flood of gold | G |
| A vision gorgeous as the dream | O |
| Of the beautified may seem | O |
| When as his Church's legends say | F |
| Borne upward in ecstatic bliss | F |
| The rapt enthusiast soars away | F |
| Unto a brighter world than this | F |
| A mortal's glimpse beyond the pale | Q |
| A moment's lifting of the veil | Q |
| - | |
| Far eastward o'er the lovely bay | F |
| Penobscot's clustered wigwams lay | F |
| And gently from that Indian town | O |
| The verdant hillside slopes adown | O |
| To where the sparkling waters play | F |
| Upon the yellow sands below | C |
| And shooting round the winding shores | F |
| Of narrow capes and isles which lie | H |
| Slumbering to ocean's lullaby | H |
| With birchen boat and glancing oars | F |
| The red men to their fishing go | C |
| While from their planting ground is borne | O |
| The treasure of the golden corn | O |
| By laughing girls whose dark eyes glow | C |
| Wild through the locks which o'er them flow | C |
| The wrinkled squaw whose toil is done | O |
| Sits on her bear skin in the sun | O |
| Watching the huskers with a smile | L |
| For each full ear which swells the pile | L |
| And the old chief who nevermore | R |
| May bend the bow or pull the oar | R |
| Smokes gravely in his wigwam door | R |
| Or slowly shapes with axe of stone | O |
| The arrow head from flint and bone | O |
| - | |
| Beneath the westward turning eye | H |
| A thousand wooded islands lie | H |
| Gems of the waters with each hue | S |
| Of brightness set in ocean's blue | S |
| Each bears aloft its tuft of trees | F |
| Touched by the pencil of the frost | G |
| And with the motion of each breeze | F |
| A moment seen a moment lost | G |
| Changing and blent confused and tossed | G |
| The brighter with the darker crossed | G |
| Their thousand tints of beauty glow | C |
| Down in the restless waves below | C |
| And tremble in the sunny skies | F |
| As if from waving bough to bough | D |
| Flitted the birds of paradise | F |
| There sleep Placentia's group and there | E |
| Pere Breteaux marks the hour of prayer | E |
| And there beneath the sea worn cliff | T |
| On which the Father's hut is seen | O |
| The Indian stays his rocking skiff | T |
| And peers the hemlock boughs between | O |
| Half trembling as he seeks to look | H |
| Upon the Jesuit's Cross and Book | H |
| There gloomily against the sky | H |
| The Dark Isles rear their summits high | H |
| And Desert Rock abrupt and bare | E |
| Lifts its gray turrets in the air | E |
| Seen from afar like some stronghold | G |
| Built by the ocean kings of old | G |
| And faint as smoke wreath white and thin | O |
| Swells in the north vast Katahdin | O |
| And wandering from its marshy feet | G |
| The broad Penobscot comes to meet | G |
| And mingle with his own bright bay | F |
| Slow sweep his dark and gathering floods | F |
| Arched over by the ancient woods | F |
| Which Time in those dim solitudes | F |
| Wielding the dull axe of Decay | F |
| Alone hath ever shorn away | F |
| - | |
| Not thus within the woods which hide | G |
| The beauty of thy azure tide | G |
| And with their falling timbers block | H |
| Thy broken currents Kennebec | H |
| Gazes the white man on the wreck | H |
| Of the down trodden Norridgewock | H |
| In one lone village hemmed at length | U |
| In battle shorn of half their strength | U |
| Turned like the panther in his lair | E |
| With his fast flowing life blood wet | G |
| For one last struggle of despair | E |
| Wounded and faint but tameless yet | G |
| Unreaped upon the planting lands | F |
| The scant neglected harvest stands | F |
| No shout is there no dance no song | H |
| The aspect of the very child | G |
| Scowls with a meaning sad and wild | G |
| Of bitterness and wrong | H |
| The almost infant Norridgewock | H |
| Essays to lift the tomahawk | H |
| And plucks his father's knife away | F |
| To mimic in his frightful play | F |
| The scalping of an English foe | C |
| Wreathes on his lip a horrid smile | L |
| Burns like a snake's his small eye while | L |
| Some bough or sapling meets his blow | C |
| The fisher as he drops his line | O |
| Starts when he sees the hazels quiver | V |
| Along the margin of the river | V |
| Looks up and down the rippling tide | G |
| And grasps the firelock at his side | G |
| For Bomazeen from Tacconock | H |
| Has sent his runners to Norridgewock | H |
| With tidings that Moulton and Harmon of York | H |
| Far up the river have come | O |
| They have left their boats they have entered the wood | G |
| And filled the depths of the solitude | G |
| With the sound of the ranger's drum | O |
| - | |
| On the brow of a hill which slopes to meet | G |
| The flowing river and bathe its feet | G |
| The bare washed rock and the drooping grass | F |
| And the creeping vine as the waters pass | F |
| A rude and unshapely chapel stands | F |
| Built up in that wild by unskilled hands | F |
| Yet the traveller knows it a place of prayer | E |
| For the holy sign of the cross is there | E |
| And should he chance at that place to be | W |
| Of a Sabbath morn or some hallowed day | F |
| When prayers are made and masses are said | G |
| Some for the living and some for the dead | G |
| Well might that traveller start to see | W |
| The tall dark forms that take their way | F |
| From the birch canoe on the river shore | R |
| And the forest paths to that chapel door | R |
| And marvel to mark the naked knees | F |
| And the dusky foreheads bending there | E |
| While in coarse white vesture over these | F |
| In blessing or in prayer | E |
| Stretching abroad his thin pale hands | F |
| Like a shrouded ghost the Jesuit stands | F |
| - | |
| Two forms are now in that chapel dim | O |
| The Jesuit silent and sad and pale | Q |
| Anxiously heeding some fearful tale | Q |
| Which a stranger is telling him | O |
| That stranger's garb is soiled and torn | O |
| And wet with dew and loosely worn | O |
| Her fair neglected hair falls down | O |
| O'er cheeks with wind and sunshine brown | O |
| Yet still in that disordered face | F |
| The Jesuit's cautious eye can trace | F |
| Those elements of former grace | F |
| Which half effaced seem scarcely less | F |
| Even now than perfect loveliness | F |
| - | |
| With drooping head and voice so low | C |
| That scarce it meets the Jesuit's ears | F |
| While through her clasped fingers flow | C |
| From the heart's fountain hot and slow | C |
| Her penitential tears | F |
| She tells the story of the woe | C |
| And evil of her years | F |
| - | |
| 'O father bear with me my heart | G |
| Is sick and death like and my brain | O |
| Seems girdled with a fiery chain | O |
| Whose scorching links will never part | G |
| And never cool again | O |
| Bear with me while I speak but turn | O |
| Away that gentle eye the while | L |
| The fires of guilt more fiercely burn | O |
| Beneath its holy smile | L |
| For half I fancy I can see | F |
| My mother's sainted look in thee | F |
| - | |
| 'My dear lost mother sad and pale | Q |
| Mournfully sinking day by day | F |
| And with a hold on life as frail | Q |
| As frosted leaves that thin and gray | F |
| Hang feebly on their parent spray | F |
| And tremble in the gale | Q |
| Yet watching o'er my childishness | F |
| With patient fondness not the less | F |
| For all the agony which k | F |
John Greenleaf Whittier
(1)
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About Mogg Megone - Part Ii.
Mogg Megone - Part Ii. is a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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