Stephen Vincent Benet

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The Ballad Of William Sycamore [1790-1871] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CBCB DEDE FGFG HGHG IGIG JKJK LMMM NMNM MOMO PBPB QGQG RBRB S ST UVWV XMAM YOYO MMMM GMGM

My father he was a mountaineerA
His fist was a knotty hammerB
He was quick on his feet as a running deerA
And he spoke with a Yankee stammerB
-
My mother she was merry and braveC
And so she came to her laborB
With a tall green fir for her doctor graveC
And a stream for her comforting neighborB
-
And some are wrapped in the linen fineD
And some like a godling's scionE
But I was cradled on twigs of pineD
And the skin of a mountain lionE
-
And some remember a white starched lapF
And a ewer with silver handlesG
But I remember a coonskin capF
And the smell of bayberry candlesG
-
The cabin logs with the bark still roughH
And my mother who laughed at triflesG
And the tall lank visitors brown as snuffH
With their long straight squirrel riflesG
-
I can hear them dance like a foggy songI
Through the deepest one of my slumbersG
The fiddle squeaking the boots alongI
And my father calling the numbersG
-
The quick feet shaking the puncheon floorJ
And the fiddle squealing and squealingK
Till the dried herbs rattled above the doorJ
And the dust went up to the ceilingK
-
There are children lucky from dawn till duskL
But never a child so luckyM
For I cut my teeth on 'Money Musk'M
In the Bloody Ground of KentuckyM
-
When I grew tall as the Indian cornN
My father had little to lend meM
But he gave me his great old powder hornN
And his woodsman's skill to befriend meM
-
With a leather shirt to cover my backM
And a redskin nose to unravelO
Each forest sign I carried my packM
As far as a scout could travelO
-
Till I lost my boyhood and found my wifeP
A girl like a Salem clipperB
A woman straight as a hunting knifeP
With as eyes as bright as the DipperB
-
We cleared our camp where the buffalo feedQ
Unheard of streams were our flagonsG
And I sowed my sons like the apple seedQ
On the trail of the Western wagonsG
-
They were right tight boys never sulky or slowR
A fruitful a goodly musterB
The eldest died at the AlamoR
The youngest fell with CusterB
-
The letter that told it burned my handS
Yet we smiled and said 'So be it '-
But I could not live when they fenced the landS
For it broke my heart to see itT
-
I saddled a red unbroken coltU
And rode him into the day thereV
And he threw me down like a thunderboltW
And rolled on me as I lay thereV
-
The hunter's whistle hummed in my earX
As the city men tried to move meM
And I died in my boots like a pioneerA
With the whole wide sky above meM
-
Now I lie in the heart of the fat black soilY
Like the seed of a prairie thistleO
It has washed my bones with honey and oilY
And picked them clean as a whistleO
-
And my youth returns like the rains of SpringM
And my sons like the wild geese flyingM
And I lie and hear the meadow lark singM
And have much content in my dyingM
-
Go play with the towns you have built of blocksG
The towns where you would have bound meM
I sleep in my earth like a tired foxG
And my buffalo have found meM

Stephen Vincent Benet



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