A Good Time Going! Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCE FGFGHIHI JKJKLMLM HBHBNON PMPMQMQM RHRHSHSH TMTMMMMM UVUVWHWH| BRAVE singer of the coming time | A |
| Sweet minstrel of the joyous present | B |
| Crowned with the noblest wreath of rhyme | A |
| The holly leaf of Ayrshire's peasant | B |
| Good by Good by Our hearts and hands | C |
| Our lips in honest Saxon phrases | D |
| Cry God be with him till he stands | C |
| His feet among the English daisies | E |
| - | |
| 'T is here we part for other eyes | F |
| The busy deck the fluttering streamer | G |
| The dripping arms that plunge and rise | F |
| The waves in foam the ship in tremor | G |
| The kerchiefs waving from the pier | H |
| The cloudy pillar gliding o'er him | I |
| The deep blue desert lone and drear | H |
| With heaven above and home before him | I |
| - | |
| His home the Western giant smiles | J |
| And twirls the spotty globe to find it | K |
| This little speck the British Isles | J |
| 'T is but a freckle never mind it | K |
| He laughs and all his prairies roll | L |
| Each gurgling cataract roars and chuckles | M |
| And ridges stretched from pole to pole | L |
| Heave till they crack their iron knuckles | M |
| - | |
| But Memory blushes at the sneer | H |
| And Honor turns with frown defiant | B |
| And Freedom leaning on her spear | H |
| Laughs louder than the laughing giant | B |
| 'An islet is a world ' she said | N |
| 'When glory with its dust has blended | O |
| And Britain keeps her noble dead | N |
| Till earth and seas and skies are rended ' | - |
| - | |
| Beneath each swinging forest bough | P |
| Some arm as stout in death reposes | M |
| From wave washed foot to heaven kissed brow | P |
| Her valor's life blood runs in roses | M |
| Nay let our brothers of the West | Q |
| Write smiling in their florid pages | M |
| One half her soil has walked the rest | Q |
| In poets heroes martyrs sages | M |
| - | |
| Hugged in the clinging billow's clasp | R |
| From sea weed fringe to mountain heather | H |
| The British oak with rooted grasp | R |
| Her slender handful holds together | H |
| With cliffs of white and bowers of green | S |
| And Ocean narrowing to caress her | H |
| And hills and threaded streams between | S |
| Our little mother isle God bless her | H |
| - | |
| In earth's broad temple where we stand | T |
| Fanned by the eastern gales that brought us | M |
| We hold the missal in our hand | T |
| Bright with the lines our Mother taught us | M |
| Where'er its blazoned page betrays | M |
| The glistening links of gilded fetters | M |
| Behold the half turned leaf displays | M |
| Her rubric stained in crimson letters | M |
| - | |
| Enough To speed a parting friend | U |
| 'T is vain alike to speak and listen | V |
| Yet stay these feeble accents blend | U |
| With rays of light from eyes that glisten | V |
| Good by once more and kindly tell | W |
| In words of peace the young world's story | H |
| And say besides we love too well | W |
| Our mothers' soil our fathers' glory | H |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
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