A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDED FBFBGHGI JDJKLMLL NONOPLPL QLPLRSRS LSLSTUTU VWVWXSXS YSYSBZBZ A2SA2SYLYL B2LB2LC2UC2U D2UD2UE2UE2U F2UF2UG2G2G2G2| I hold a letter in my hand | A |
| A flattering letter more's the pity | B |
| By some contriving junto planned | A |
| And signed per order of Committee | B |
| It touches every tenderest spot | C |
| My patriotic predilections | D |
| My well known something don't ask what | E |
| My poor old songs my kind affections | D |
| - | |
| They make a feast on Thursday next | F |
| And hope to make the feasters merry | B |
| They own they're something more perplexed | F |
| For poets than for port and sherry | B |
| They want the men of word torn out | G |
| Our friends will come with anxious faces | H |
| To see our blankets off no doubt | G |
| And trot us out and show our paces | I |
| - | |
| They hint that papers by the score | J |
| Are rather musty kind of rations | D |
| They don't exactly mean a bore | J |
| But only trying to the patience | K |
| That such as you know who I mean | L |
| Distinguished for their what d' ye call 'em | M |
| Should bring the dews of Hippocrene | L |
| To sprinkle on the faces solemn | L |
| - | |
| The same old story that's the chaff | N |
| To catch the birds that sing the ditties | O |
| Upon my soul it makes me laugh | N |
| To read these letters from Committees | O |
| They're all so loving and so fair | P |
| All for your sake such kind compunction | L |
| 'T would save your carriage half its wear | P |
| To touch its wheels with such an unction | L |
| - | |
| Why who am I to lift me here | Q |
| And beg such learned folk to listen | L |
| To ask a smile or coax a tear | P |
| Beneath these stoic lids to glisten | L |
| As well might some arterial thread | R |
| Ask the whole frame to feel it gushing | S |
| While throbbing fierce from heel to head | R |
| The vast aortic tide was rushing | S |
| - | |
| As well some hair like nerve might strain | L |
| To set its special streamlet going | S |
| While through the myriad channelled brain | L |
| The burning flood of thought was flowing | S |
| Or trembling fibre strive to keep | T |
| The springing haunches gathered shorter | U |
| While the scourged racer leap on leap | T |
| Was stretching through the last hot quarter | U |
| - | |
| Ah me you take the bud that came | V |
| Self sown in your poor garden's borders | W |
| And hand it to the stately dame | V |
| That florists breed for all she orders | W |
| She thanks you it was kindly meant | X |
| A pale afair not worth the keeping | S |
| Good morning and your bud is sent | X |
| To join the tea leaves used for sweeping | S |
| - | |
| Not always so kind hearts and true | Y |
| For such I know are round me beating | S |
| Is not the bud I offer you | Y |
| Fresh gathered for the hour of meeting | S |
| Pale though its outer leaves may be | B |
| Rose red in all its inner petals | Z |
| Where the warm life we cannot see | B |
| The life of love that gave it settles | Z |
| - | |
| - | |
| We meet from regions far away | A2 |
| Like rills from distant mountains streaming | S |
| The sun is on Francisco's bay | A2 |
| O'er Chesapeake the lighthouse gleaming | S |
| While summer girds the still bayou | Y |
| In chains of bloom her bridal token | L |
| Monadnock sees the sky grow blue | Y |
| His crystal bracelet yet unbroken | L |
| - | |
| Yet Nature bears the selfsame heart | B2 |
| Beneath her russet mantled bosom | L |
| As where with burning lips apart | B2 |
| She breathes and white magnolias blossom | L |
| The selfsame founts her chalice fill | C2 |
| With showery sunlight running over | U |
| On fiery plain and frozen hill | C2 |
| On myrtle beds and fields of clover | U |
| - | |
| I give you Home its crossing lines | D2 |
| United in one golden suture | U |
| And showing every day that shines | D2 |
| The present growing to the future | U |
| A flag that bears a hundred stars | E2 |
| In one bright ring with love for centre | U |
| Fenced round with white and crimson bars | E2 |
| No prowling treason dares to enter | U |
| - | |
| O brothers home may be a word | F2 |
| To make affection's living treasure | U |
| The wave an angel might have stirred | F2 |
| A stagnant pool of selfish pleasure | U |
| HOME It is where the day star springs | G2 |
| And where the evening sun reposes | G2 |
| Where'er the eagle spreads his wings | G2 |
| From northern pines to southern roses | G2 |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
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About A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853
A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853 is a poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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