The Prospector Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCD EFEFGHGH IJIJHKHK LMLMNONO PGPGQBQB RSRSOTOU VWVWXNXN YGYGHZHZ TFTFA2B2A2B2 C2D2C2D2E2F2E2F2 G2H2G2H2

I strolled up old Bonanza where I staked in ninety eightA
A purpose to revisit the old claimB
I kept thinking mighty sadly of the funny ways of FateA
And the lads who once were with me in the gameB
Poor boys they're down and outers and there's scarcely one to dayC
Can show a dozen colors in his pokeD
And me I'm still prospecting old and battered gaunt and grayC
And I'm looking for a grub stake and I'm brokeD
-
I strolled up old Bonanza The same old moon looked downE
The same old landmarks seemed to yearn to meF
But the cabins all were silent and the flat once like a townE
Was mighty still and lonesome like to seeF
There were piles and piles of tailings where we toiled with pick and panG
And turning round a bend I heard a roarH
And there a giant gold ship of the very newest planG
Was tearing chunks of pay dirt from the shoreH
-
It wallowed in its water bed it burrowed heaved and swungI
It gnawed its way ahead with grunts and sighsJ
Its bill of fare was rock and sand the tailings were its dungI
It glared around with fierce electric eyesJ
Full fifty buckets crammed its maw it bellowed out for moreH
It looked like some great monster in the gloomK
With two to feed its sateless greed it worked for seven scoreH
And I sighed Ah old time miner here's your doomK
-
The idle windlass turns to rust the sagging sluice box fallsL
The holes you digged are water to the brimM
Your little sod roofed cabins with the snugly moss chinked wallsL
Are deathly now and mouldering and dimM
The battle field is silent where of old you fought it outN
The claims you fiercely won are lost and soldO
But there's a little army that they'll never put to routN
The men who simply live to seek the goldO
-
The men who can't remember when they learned to swing a packP
Or in what lawless land the quest beganG
The solitary seeker with his grub stake on his backP
The restless buccaneer of pick and panG
On the mesas of the Southland on the tundras of the NorthQ
You will find us changed in face but still the sameB
And it isn't need it isn't greed that sends us faring forthQ
It's the fever it's the glory of the gameB
-
For once you've panned the speckled sand and seen the bonny dustR
Its peerless brightness blinds you like a spellS
It's little else you care about you go because you mustR
And you feel that you could follow it to hellS
You'd follow it in hunger and you'd follow it in coldO
You'd follow it in solitude and painT
And when you're stiff and battened down let someone whisper GoldO
You're lief to rise and follow it againU
-
Yet look you if I find the stuff it's just like so much dirtV
I fling it to the four winds like a childW
It's wine and painted women and the things that do me hurtV
Till I crawl back beggared broken to the WildW
Till I crawl back sapped and sodden to my grub stake and my tentX
There's a city there's an army hear them shoutN
There's the gold in millions millions but I haven't got a centX
And oh it's me it's me that found it outN
-
It was my dream that made it good my dream that made me goY
To lands of dread and death disprized of manG
But oh I've known a glory that their hearts will never knowY
When I picked the first big nugget from my panG
It's still my dream my dauntless dream that drives me forth once moreH
To seek and starve and suffer in the VastZ
That heaps my heart with eager hope that glimmers on beforeH
My dream that will uplift me to the lastZ
-
Perhaps I am stark crazy but there's none of you too saneT
It's just a little matter of degreeF
My hobby is to hunt out gold it's fortressed in my brainT
It's life and love and wife and home to meF
And I'll strike it yes I'll strike it I've a hunch I cannot failA2
I've a vision I've a prompting I've a callB2
I hear the hoarse stampeding of an army on my trailA2
To the last the greatest gold camp of them allB2
-
Beyond the shark tooth ranges sawing savage at the skyC2
There's a lowering land no white man ever struckD2
There's gold there's gold in millions and I'll find it if I dieC2
And I'm going there once more to try my luckD2
Maybe I'll fail what matter It's a mandate it's a vowE2
And when in lands of dreariness and dreadF2
You seek the last lone frontier far beyond your frontiers nowE2
You will find the old prospector silent deadF2
-
You will find a tattered tent pole with a ragged robe below itG2
You will find a rusted gold pan on the sodH2
You will find the claim I'm seeking with my bones as stakes to show itG2
But I've sought the last Recorder and He's GodH2

Robert Service



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