Analysis of Loraine



This is the story of one man’s soul.
The paths are stony and passion is blind,
And feet must bleed ere the light we find.
The cypher is writ on Life’s mighty scroll,
And the key is in each man’s mind.
But who read aright, ye have won release,
Ye have touched the joy in the heart of Peace.

THERE’S a bend of the river on Glenbar run
Which the wild duck haunt at the set of sun,
And the song of the waters is softened so
That scarcely its current is heard to flow;
And the blackfish hide by the shady bank
’Neath the sunken logs where the reeds are rank,
And the halcyon’s mail is an azure gleam
O’er the shifting shoals of the silver bream,
And the magpies chatter their idle whim,
And the wagtails flitter along the brim,
And tiny martins with breasts of snow
Keep fluttering restlessly to and fro,
And the weeping willows have framed the scene
With the trailing fall of their curtains green,
And the grass grows lush on the level leas
’Neath the low gnarled boughs of the apple trees,
Where the drowsy cattle dream away
The noon-tide hours of the summer day.
There’s a shady nook by the old tree where
The track comes winding from Bendemeer.
So faint are the marks of the bridle track,
From the old slip-rails on the ridge’s back,
That few can follow the lines I know—
But I ride with the shadows of long ago!
I am gaunt and gray, I am old and worn,
But my heart goes back to a radiant morn
When someone waited and watched for me
In the friendly shade of that grand old tree.
The winter of Memory brings again
The summer rapture of passionate pain,
And she comes to me with the morning grace
On her sun-gold hair and her lily face,
And her blue eyes soft with the dreamy light
She stole from the stars of the Southern night,
And her slender form like a springtide flower
That sprang from the earth in a magic hour,
With the trembling smile and the tender tone
And the welcome glance—that were mine alone.
And we sit once more as we sat of old
When the future lay in a haze of gold—
In the fairy days when the gods have lent
To our lips the silence of heart’s content.
Ah! those were the days of youth’s perfect spring,
When each wandering wind had a song to sing,
When the touch of care and the shade of woe
Were but empty words we could never know
As we rode ’neath the gum and the box trees high,
And our idle laughter went floating by,
As we rode o’er the leagues of the billowy plain
Where the grass grew green ’neath the summer rain,
And over the hills in the range’s heart
To the fern-decked glen where the waters dart,
And we railed at time and the laggard year
Ere a bride would be mistress of Bendemeer.
Now the old-time feud that was first begun
When the Gordons settled on Glenbar run,
It had passed away, it was buried deep
In the quiet graves where our fathers sleep,
And sweet Mary Gordon was left alone
In the quaint old station of rough-hewn stone,
The maiden whom lovers sought near and far—
The stately lily of old Glenbar.
Our kinsfolk had hated, from year to year,
Since the first Loraine came to Bendemeer
They have passed where none can cavil and strive;
How could she and I keep the feud alive!
I, James Loraine, who were better dead
Than harm one hair of her gentle head!
So we made the bond that would bind, one day,
Glenbar and Bendemeer for aye.

For at last, though it left me with saddened face,
I was master of all in my father’s place.
Of the gray old dwelling, rambling and wide,
With the homestead paddocks on either side,
And the deep verandahs and porches tall
Where the vine climbs high on the trellised wall,
Where the pine and cypress their dark crowns rear
O’er the garden—the glory of Bendemeer—
From whence you can dream o’er the tranquil scene
Of the scattered sheep on the lucerne green,
And the mighty plain in the sunlight spread,
With the brown hawk motionless overhead,
And the stockmen’s cottages clustering still
On the gentle slope of the station hill,
And the woolshed gray on the swelling rise
Where the creek winds blue ’neath the bluer skies.

And here in the days when our hearts were light
We lived life joyously day and night.
For the friend of my soul, who was dear to me
As no friend hath been or again can be,
Was Oliver Douglas. In cloud or shine
My heart was his and his heart was mine,
And we lived like brothers from year to year,
And toiled for the honour of Bendemeer,
And my life moved on thro’ a golden haze
The splendid glamour of fortunate days.
What more to a man can the hi


Scheme ABBABCC DDEEFFGGHHEEIIJJKKLLMMEENNOOXPQQRRSSTTUUVVWWEEXXPPYYZLDD1 1 TTXLZL2 2 3 3 KX QQ4 4 5 5 ZLII3 3 6 6 7 7 RROO8 8 ZL9 9 X
Poetic Form
Metre 110101111 0111001011 011110111 0101111101 00110111 111111101 1110100111 1011010111 1011110111 00110101101 1101101111 001110101 1010110111 001111101 1010110101 001101101 00110101 010101111 1100100101 001011101 1010111101 0011110101 1011110101 101010101 0111010101 1010110111 0111011 1110110101 1011110101 111100111 1111011101 1110111101 11111101001 11100111 0010111111 0101100101 0101011001 0111110101 1011100101 0011110101 1110110101 0010110110 11101001010 10100100101 0010110101 0111111111 1010100111 0010110111 11010101110 1100111011 11100110111 1011100111 0110111101 11110100111 01010101101 1111011011 1011110101 0100100101 1011110101 0111100101 101111011 1011111101 10110111 1110111101 00101110101 0110101101 0011101111 0101101101 01010111 1011101111 10101111 111111101 1110110101 110110101 111110101 1110111111 10111 11111111101 11101101101 1011101001 10111101 00110101 101111011 1010101111 101001011 1111110101 1010110101 001010011 1011100101 0011001001 1010110101 001110101 1011110101 01001110101 1111101 10111111111 1111110111 1100100111 111101111 0111101111 0110111 0111110101 0101011001 11101101
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,408
Words 851
Sentences 22
Stanzas 4
Stanza Lengths 7, 70, 16, 11
Lines Amount 104
Letters per line (avg) 34
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 872
Words per stanza (avg) 212
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:15 min read
109

George Essex Evans

George Essex Evans was an Australian poet. more…

All George Essex Evans poems | George Essex Evans Books

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