To Governor Swain Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCBB DDEEFFBBGGHH IIJJKKLLEEMM EEBBNNOOBBCCPPQQGG| DEAR GOVERNOR if my skiff might brave | A |
| The winds that lift the ocean wave | A |
| The mountain stream that loops and swerves | B |
| Through my broad meadow's channelled curves | B |
| Should waft me on from bound to bound | C |
| To where the River weds the Sound | C |
| The Sound should give me to the Sea | B |
| That to the Bay the Bay to thee | B |
| - | |
| It may not be too long the track | D |
| To follow down or struggle back | D |
| The sun has set on fair Naushon | E |
| Long ere my western blaze is gone | E |
| The ocean disk is rolling dark | F |
| In shadows round your swinging bark | F |
| While yet the yellow sunset fills | B |
| The stream that scarfs my spruce clad hills | B |
| The day star wakes your island deer | G |
| Long ere my barnyard chanticleer | G |
| Your mists are soaring in the blue | H |
| While mine are sparks of glittering dew | H |
| - | |
| It may not be oh would it might | I |
| Could I live o'er that glowing night | I |
| What golden hours would come to life | J |
| What goodly feats of peaceful strife | J |
| Such jests that drained of every joke | K |
| The very bank of language broke | K |
| Such deeds that Laughter nearly died | L |
| With stitches in his belted side | L |
| While Time caught fast in pleasure's chain | E |
| His double goblet snapped in twain | E |
| And stood with half in either hand | M |
| Both brimming full but not of sand | M |
| - | |
| It may not be I strive in vain | E |
| To break my slender household chain | E |
| Three pairs of little clasping hands | B |
| One voice that whispers not commands | B |
| Even while my spirit flies away | N |
| My gentle jailers murmur nay | N |
| All shapes of elemental wrath | O |
| They raise along my threatened path | O |
| The storm grows black the waters rise | B |
| The mountains mingle with the skies | B |
| The mad tornado scoops the ground | C |
| The midnight robber prowls around | C |
| Thus kissing every limb they tie | P |
| They draw a knot and heave a sigh | P |
| Till fairly netted in the toil | Q |
| My feet are rooted to the soil | Q |
| Only the soaring wish is free | G |
| And that dear Governor flies to thee | G |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
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