Mnemosyne
Trumbull Stickney 1874 (Geneva) – 1904
It 's autumn in the country I remember.
How warm a wind blew here about the ways!
And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber
During the long sun-sweetened summer-days.
It's cold abroad the country I remember.
The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain
At midday with a wing aslant and limber;
And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain.
It 's empty down the country I remember.
I had a sister lovely in my sight:
Her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre;
We sang together in the woods at night.
It 's lonely in the country I remember.
The babble of our children fills my ears,
And on our hearth I stare the perished ember
To flames that show all starry thro' my tears.
It 's dark about the country I remember.
There are the mountains where I lived. The path
Is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber,
The stumps are twisted by the tempests' wrath.
But that I knew these places are my own,
I 'd ask how came such wretchedness to cumber
The earth, and I to people it alone.
It rains across the country I remember.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 58 sec read
- 106 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | A BAB A CAC A DAD A XAX A EAE FAF A |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,014 |
Words | 193 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 3, 1, 3, 1, 3, 1, 3, 1, 3, 3, 1 |
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"Mnemosyne" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/37232/mnemosyne>.
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