A Meditation On Rhode-island Coal Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCCCDE BBBBBB BBBBFF GBGBBB HBIBJJ CBCBBB BHBIBB BBBBCC KDLDCC BFBFMI BNBNAA DCDOFF CACAPP BQBQCC CCCCRI STUTFF

Decolor obscuris vilis non ille repexamA
Cesariem regum non candida virginis ornatB
Colla nec insigni splendet per cingula morsuC
Sed nova si nigri videas miracula saxiC
Tunc superat pulchros cultus et quicquid EoisC
Indus litoribus rubr acirc scrutatur in alg acircD
CLAUDIANE
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I sat beside the glowing grate fresh heapedB
With Newport coal and as the flame grew brightB
The many coloured flame and played and leapedB
I thought of rainbows and the northern lightB
Moore's Lalla Rookh the Treasury ReportB
And other brilliant matters of the sortB
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And last I thought of that fair isle which sentB
The mineral fuel on a summer dayB
I saw it once with heat and travel spentB
And scratched by dwarf oaks in the hollow wayB
Now dragged through sand now jolted over stoneF
A rugged road through rugged TivertonF
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And hotter grew the air and hollower grewG
The deep worn path and horror struck I thoughtB
Where will this dreary passage lead me toG
This long dull road so narrow deep and hotB
I looked to see it dive in earth outrightB
I looked but saw a far more welcome sightB
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Like a soft mist upon the evening shoreH
At once a lovely isle before me layB
Smooth and with tender verdure covered o'erI
As if just risen from its calm inland bayB
Sloped each way gently to the grassy edgeJ
And the small waves that dallied with the sedgeJ
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The barley was just reaped its heavy sheavesC
Lay on the stubble field the tall maize stoodB
Dark in its summer growth and shook its leavesC
And bright the sunlight played on the young woodB
For fifty years ago the old men sayB
The Briton hewed their ancient groves awayB
-
I saw where fountains freshened the green landB
And where the pleasant road from door to doorH
With rows of cherry trees on either handB
Went wandering all that fertile region o'erI
Rogue's Island once but when the rogues were deadB
Rhode Island was the name it took insteadB
-
Beautiful island then it only seemedB
A lovely stranger it has grown a friendB
I gazed on its smooth slopes but never dreamedB
How soon that bright magnificent isle would sendB
The treasures of its womb across the seaC
To warm a poet's room and boil his teaC
-
Dark anthracite that reddenest on my hearthK
Thou in those island mines didst slumber longD
But now thou art come forth to move the earthL
And put to shame the men that mean thee wrongD
Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate theeC
And warm the shins of all that underrate theeC
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Yea they did wrong thee foully they who mockedB
Thy honest face and said thou wouldst not burnF
Of hewing thee to chimney pieces talkedB
And grew profane and swore in bitter scornF
That men might to thy inner caves retireM
And there unsinged abide the day of fireI
-
Yet is thy greatness nigh I pause to stateB
That I too have seen greatness even IN
Shook hands with Adams stared at La FayetteB
When barehead in the hot noon of JulyN
He would not let the umbrella be held o'er himA
For which three cheers burst from the mob before himA
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And I have seen not many months agoD
An eastern Governor in chapeau brasC
And military coat a glorious showD
Ride forth to visit the reviews and ahO
How oft he smiled and bowed to JonathanF
How many hands were shook and votes were wonF
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'Twas a great Governor thou too shalt beC
Great in thy turn and wide shall spread thy fameA
And swiftly farthest Maine shall hear of theeC
And cold New Brunswick gladden at thy nameA
And faintly through its sleets the weeping isleP
That sends the Boston folks their cod shall smileP
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For thou shalt forge vast railways and shalt heatB
The hissing rivers into steam and driveQ
Huge masses from thy mines on iron feetB
Walking their steady way as if aliveQ
Northward till everlasting ice besets theeC
And south as far as the grim Spaniard lets theeC
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Thou shalt make mighty engines swim the seaC
Like its own monsters boats that for a guineaC
Will take a man to Havre and shalt beC
The moving soul of many a spinning jennyC
And ply thy shuttles till a bard can wearR
As good a suit of broadcloth as the mayorI
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Then we will laugh at winter when we hearS
The grim old churl about our dwellings raveT
Thou from that ruler of the inverted yearU
Shalt pluck the knotty sceptre Cowper gaveT
And pull him from his sledge and drag him inF
And melt the icicles from off his chinF

William Cullen Bryant



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