Analysis of Corn.
Sidney Lanier 1842 (Macon) – 1881 (Lynn)
To-day the woods are trembling through and through
With shimmering forms, that flash before my view,
Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A subtlety of mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
The beech dreams balm, as a dreamer hums a song;
Through that vague wafture, expirations strong
Throb from young hickories breathing deep and long
With stress and urgence bold of prisoned spring
And ecstasy of burgeoning.
Now, since the dew-plashed road of morn is dry,
Forth venture odors of more quality
And heavenlier giving. Like Jove's locks awry,
Long muscadines
Rich-wreathe the spacious foreheads of great pines,
And breathe ambrosial passion from their vines.
I pray with mosses, ferns and flowers shy
That hide like gentle nuns from human eye
To lift adoring perfumes to the sky.
I hear faint bridal-sighs of brown and green
Dying to silent hints of kisses keen
As far lights fringe into a pleasant sheen.
I start at fragmentary whispers, blown
From undertalks of leafy souls unknown,
Vague purports sweet, of inarticulate tone.
Dreaming of gods, men, nuns and brides, between
Old companies of oaks that inward lean
To join their radiant amplitudes of green
I slowly move, with ranging looks that pass
Up from the matted miracles of grass
Into yon veined complex of space
Where sky and leafage interlace
So close, the heaven of blue is seen
Inwoven with a heaven of green.
I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence
Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,
Contests with stolid vehemence
The march of culture, setting limb and thorn
As pikes against the army of the corn.
There, while I pause, my fieldward-faring eyes
Take harvests, where the stately corn-ranks rise,
Of inward dignities
And large benignities and insights wise,
Graces and modest majesties.
Thus, without theft, I reap another's field;
Thus, without tilth, I house a wondrous yield,
And heap my heart with quintuple crops concealed.
Look, out of line one tall corn-captain stands
Advanced beyond the foremost of his bands,
And waves his blades upon the very edge
And hottest thicket of the battling hedge.
Thou lustrous stalk, that ne'er mayst walk nor talk,
Still shalt thou type the poet-soul sublime
That leads the vanward of his timid time
And sings up cowards with commanding rhyme --
Soul calm, like thee, yet fain, like thee, to grow
By double increment, above, below;
Soul homely, as thou art, yet rich in grace like thee,
Teaching the yeomen selfless chivalry
That moves in gentle curves of courtesy;
Soul filled like thy long veins with sweetness tense,
By every godlike sense
Transmuted from the four wild elements.
Drawn to high plans,
Thou lift'st more stature than a mortal man's,
Yet ever piercest downward in the mould
And keepest hold
Upon the reverend and steadfast earth
That gave thee birth;
Yea, standest smiling in thy future grave,
Serene and brave,
With unremitting breath
Inhaling life from death,
Thine epitaph writ fair in fruitage eloquent,
Thyself thy monument.
As poets should,
Thou hast built up thy hardihood
With universal food,
Drawn in select proportion fair
From honest mould and vagabond air;
From darkness of the dreadful night,
And joyful light;
From antique ashes, whose departed flame
In thee has finer life and longer fame;
From wounds and balms,
From storms and calms,
From potsherds and dry bones
And ruin-stones.
Into thy vigorous substance thou hast wrought
Whate'er the hand of Circumstance hath brought;
Yea, into cool solacing green hast spun
White radiance hot from out the sun.
So thou dost mutually leaven
Strength of earth with grace of heaven;
So thou dost marry new and old
Into a one of higher mould;
So thou dost reconcile the hot and cold,
The dark and bright,
And many a heart-perplexing opposite,
And so,
Akin by blood to high and low,
Fitly thou playest out thy poet's part,
Richly expending thy much-bruised heart
In equal care to nourish lord in hall
Or beast in stall:
Thou took'st from all that thou mightst give to all.
O steadfast dweller on the selfsame spot
Where thou wast born, that still repinest not --
Type of the home-fond heart
Scheme | AAABBXCCCDDDEEFGFBHHFFFIIIJJJIIIKKLLII MMXNN OOBOBPPP QQRRXSSSTTGGGMMXUUVVWWXXYYZZ XCX1 1 2 2 3 3 4 4 5 5 6 6 7 7 7 7 VVV2 XTTCC8 8 8 9 9 C |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11011100101 11001110111 1101111101 0111011101 11010010101 0100110100 0110110101 111110101 111111101 01111010101 11110101 11110010101 110111101 01001100 1101111111 1101011100 011011101 11 110101111 0101010111 1111010101 1111011101 1101001101 1111011101 1011011101 1111010101 111100101 11110101 1111001001 1011110101 1100111101 111100111 1101110111 110110011 01111011 110101 110101111 1101011 1101010101 11010101 10110100 0111010101 1101010101 111111101 1101010111 1101 011011 100101 1011110101 1011110101 01111100101 1111111101 010101111 0111010101 01010101001 1101111111 1111010101 110111101 0111010101 1111111111 1101000101 110111110111 100110100 1101011100 1111111101 110011 11011100 1111 11111010101 110110001 011 010100011 1111 111001101 0101 10101 010111 1101101100 11100 1101 111111 10101 10010101 110101001 11010101 0101 1011010101 0111010101 1101 1101 11011 0101 01110010111 100111011 10111111 110011101 111100010 11111110 11110101 01011101 111100101 0101 01001010100 01 01111101 11111101 10101111 0101110101 1101 11111111111 11101011 11111111 110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,298 |
Words | 722 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 38, 5, 8, 28, 31, 3 |
Lines Amount | 113 |
Letters per line (avg) | 30 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 573 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 121 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 02, 2023
- 3:39 min read
- 344 Views
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"Corn." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/34746/corn.>.
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