It's Forth Across The Roaring Foam
Robert Louis Stevenson 1850 (Edinburgh) – 1894 (Vailima, Samoa)
IT'S forth across the roaring foam, and on towards the west,
It's many a lonely league from home, o'er many a mountain crest,
From where the dogs of Scotland call the sheep around the fold,
To where the flags are flying beside the Gates of Gold.
Where all the deep-sea galleons ride that come to bring the corn,
Where falls the fog at eventide and blows the breeze at morn;
It's there that I was sick and sad, alone and poor and cold,
In yon distressful city beside the Gates of Gold.
I slept as one that nothing knows; but far along my way,
Before the morning God rose and planned the coming day;
Afar before me forth he went, as through the sands of old,
And chose the friends to help me beside the Gates of Gold.
I have been near, I have been far, my back's been at the wall,
Yet aye and ever shone the star to guide me through it all:
The love of God, the help of man, they both shall make me bold
Against the gates of darkness as beside the Gates of Gold.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 59 sec read
- 138 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AABB CCBB DDBB EEBB |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 953 |
Words | 192 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4 |
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"It's Forth Across The Roaring Foam" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/31619/it's-forth-across-the-roaring-foam>.
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