The Ideal Preacher Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDE FFGGHHIIJJ KKBLMMNN OOPPQQJJRRSSJJ JJNNTTJJ JJUUVVTTWW XXRRYY ZZA2A2 NNJJB2B2C2C2 D2D2JJE2E2 F2F2G2G2H2H2JJ UUI2I2JJJ2J2

It was back in Renfrew County near the Opeongo lineA
Where the land's all hills and hollows and the hills are clothed with pineA
And in the wooded valleys little lakes shine here and thereB
Like jewels in the masses of a lovely woman's hairB
Where the York branch by a channel ripped through rugged rocks and sandC
Sweeps to join the Madawaska speeding downward to the GrandC
Where the landscape glows with beauty like a halo shed abroadD
And the face of nature mirrors back the unseen face of GodE
-
I was weary with my journey and with difficulty stroveF
To keep myself awake at first as sitting by the stoveF
In old William Rankin's shanty I attended as I mightG
To the pioneer backwoodsman's tales far on into the nightG
But William talked until the need of sleep one quite forgotH
Not stopping but to stir the fire which kept the stove red hotH
For the wind was raw and cold without although the month of MayI
Up north the winter struggles hard before it yields its swayI
And the snow is in the forests and the ice is in the lakesJ
And the frost is in the seedland oft when sunny June awakesJ
-
He talked of camps in winter time of river drives in springK
Of discords in the settlement in fact of everythingK
He told of one good elder who'd been eaten by a bearB
And wondered that a beast of prey should eat a man of pray'rL
Of beast from wolf to porcupine killed with gun axe and forkM
And finally of college men who did not pine for porkM
But yet among them students said the bushman there wuz oneN
As hit me an' the settlement as fair as any gunN
-
O' course he wa'nt no buster hed no shinin' gifts o' speechO
But jis' as reg'lar he could give some pointers how to preachO
He talked straight on like tellin' yarns more heart I'd say 'an headP
But somehow people felt he meant 'bout every word he saidP
He wa'n't chuck full o' larnin' from the peelin' to the coreQ
Leastwise he wa'n't the kind they call a college batch o' loreQ
He'd no degree the schoolma'am said though soon he let 'em seeJ
That o' certain sterlin' qualities he had a great degreeJ
Leastwise he hed no letters till the hind end o' his nameR
But preacher say you don't set much importance by them sameR
Y' may hev titles o' y'r own an' think I'm speakin' boldS
But there's that bob tailed nag o' mine the chestnut three year oldS
It's true she can't make such a swish to scare away the fliesJ
But if y'd see her cover ground y'd scarce believe y'r eyesJ
-
O' course he hed his enemies you preachers alluz hezJ
But 'twa'n't no use their tellin' us he wa'n't the stuff I gezJ
An' after while they closed right up an' looked like it wuz funN
When they seed the way he 'sisted out ol' Game leg TempletonN
O' course y' knows ol' Templeton twuz him as druv y' inT
Y' noticed maybe how he limped and sort o' saved his shinT
He's run the mail through fair and foul 'tween this and CumbermereJ
And faithful served Her Majesty fur nigh on twenty yearJ
-
The preacher stayed with Templeton the same's you're stay'n' with meJ
On a new clearance back o' this which course y' didn't seeJ
An' one day on a visit tour the chap wuz startin' outU
In the way o' Little Carlow twuz good twelve mile round aboutU
An' in the bush he'd lose hisself as everybody knowedV
'I'll take the axe ' says Templeton 'an' go an' blaze a roadV
It's only three mile through the bush ' An' so they started inT
Quite happy like men never knows when troubles will beginT
'Bout noon the folks was in the house a eatin' o' their snackW
The chap comes home with Templeton a hangin' on his backW
-
The call wuz close fur Templeton who'd somehow missed his strokeX
He alluz swung a heavy blow an' the bone wuz well nigh brokeX
An' wust of all 'twuz two whole days afore the doctor cameR
He was up the Long Lake section seein' what's that fellow's nameR
Well never mind An' when he did examine of the woundY
He said 'twould take all summer fur the man to git aroundY
-
Well what y' think thet preacher done but turn right out an' mowZ
The meadow down an' put it in and th' harvest too althoughZ
The ol' man worried and complained as how he'd orter stopA2
An' there wa'nt no binders in them days and work wuz work sure popA2
-
Well when the people heerd about the way that preacher doneN
All on 'em growed religious straight sir every mother's sonN
The meetin' house wuz crowded from the pulpit to the doorJ
Some on 'em hadn't showed face there fur twenty year or moreJ
An' them as sot out on the fence an' gossiped all the whileB2
Jis' brought the fence planks in and sot down on 'em in the aisleB2
An' listened sir no orator as ever spoke aloudC2
Worked on his audience the way as that chap on our crowdC2
-
We aint no shakes o' people we aint up to nothin' newD2
But we knows a man what's shammin' and we knows a man what's trueD2
An' when we heerd that preacher talk 'bout Christian sacrificeJ
And bearin' burdens for the weak we valued his adviceJ
An' we showed it there wuz nothin' as we thought too good for himE2
We poured our cup o' gratitude an' filled it to the brimE2
-
He aint been near so fort'nate 'n the city where he's wentF2
Some folks as didn't like him set them sticklers on his scentF2
An' the presbytery giv him fits fur trimmin' of his lampG2
The way it shined the brightest an' he jined another campG2
But most men leastwise such as him I take it fur my partH2
Aint got much devil in their brains when God is in their heartH2
An' I'll allow it yet although they puts me in the stocksJ
That religion what is practical's sufficient orthodoxJ
-
Well thet's the finest preacher as hez struck back here to spoutU
An' there never wuz another we cared very much aboutU
I've heerd o' Beecher's meetings an' such men as John B GoughI2
But fourteen waggon loads druv down to see that preacher offI2
We sent him back to college with a fresh supply o' socksJ
Nigh everything a student needs wuz jammed intill that boxJ
An' preacher spite of what yourself with all your parts may feelJ2
Fur me an' Game leg Templeton that man is our ideelJ2

W. M. Mackeracher



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about The Ideal Preacher poem by W. M. Mackeracher


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 0 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets