The Sewing-girl. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDEDFFGG HIHIJKJKLMLMGG NONOMNMNAPAPQQRGG STSTUVWUWVGG

I asked to see the dead man's faceA
As I gave the servant my well filled basketB
And she deigned to lead me a wondrous graceA
Where he lay asleep in his rosewood casketB
I was only the sewing girl and he the heir to this princely palaceC
Flowers white flowers everywhereD
In odorous cross and anchor and chaliceE
The smallest leaf might touch his hairD
But I my God I must stand apartF
With my hands pressed silently on my heartF
I must not touch the least brown curlG
For I was only the sewing girlG
-
If his stately mother knew what I knowH
As she weeping stood by his side this morningI
Would she clasp me in motherly love and woeH
Or drive me out in the cold with scorningI
If she knew that I loved him better than lifeJ
Better than death since for him I gaveK
My hopes of rest that I faced life's strifeJ
And renounced the quiet and restful graveK
When his strong true hand drew me back that dayL
When woe and want and the want of pityM
Drove me down where the cold waves layL
Like wolves round the walls of this cruel cityM
Not much would she say with her proud lip's curlG
Only the life of a sewing girlG
-
Now love for me in his heart did lingerN
I saw the lady his promised brideO
I saw his ring on her slender fingerN
As she weeping stood by his mother's sideO
That same ring shone as he lifted meM
Dripping and cold from the sea waves bitterN
I had thought Heaven's light I next should seeM
But earth's sun shone in its ruby glitterN
I had thought when I looked in the Lord's mild faceA
That He would forgive my rashness and sinP
When He knew there was not a single placeA
Not a place so small that I could creep inP
And I wanted a home and I longed for loveQ
And God and mother were both aboveQ
But he showed me my sin and taught me to liveR
Above this life of tumult and whirlG
Though I was only a sewing girlG
-
What shall I do with the life he wonS
From death that day in a hard won battleT
Shall I lay it down e'er the rising sunS
Looks down on the city's roar and rattleT
Shall I lay it down e'er the midnight dimU
With horrible shadows is roofed and pavedV
No I will make it so pure and sweetW
That angels shall say with smiles to himU
When we meet above on the golden streetW
Behold the soul of her you savedV
Maybe it shall add to his crown one pearlG
Though only the soul of a sewing girlG

Marietta Holley



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The Sewing-girl. is a poem by Marietta Holley. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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