Analysis of Oliver Basselin. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
In the Valley of the Vire
Still is seen an ancient mill,
With its gables quaint and queer,
And beneath the window-sill,
On the stone,
These words alone:
'Oliver Basselin lived here.'
Far above it, on the steep,
Ruined stands the old Chateau;
Nothing but the donjon-keep
Left for shelter or for show.
Its vacant eyes
Stare at the skies,
Stare at the valley green and deep.
Once a convent, old and brown,
Looked, but ah! it looks no more,
From the neighboring hillside down
On the rushing and the roar
Of the stream
Whose sunny gleam
Cheers the little Norman town.
In that darksome mill of stone,
To the water's dash and din,
Careless, humble, and unknown,
Sang the poet Basselin
Songs that fill
That ancient mill
With a splendor of its own.
Never feeling of unrest
Broke the pleasant dream he dreamed;
Only made to be his nest,
All the lovely valley seemed;
No desire
Of soaring higher
Stirred or fluttered in his breast.
True, his songs were not divine;
Were not songs of that high art,
Which, as winds do in the pine,
Find an answer in each heart;
But the mirth
Of this green earth
Laughed and revelled in his line.
From the alehouse and the inn,
Opening on the narrow street,
Came the loud, convivial din,
Singing and applause of feet,
The laughing lays
That in those days
Sang the poet Basselin.
In the castle, cased in steel,
Knights, who fought at Agincourt,
Watched and waited, spur on heel;
But the poet sang for sport
Songs that rang
Another clang,
Songs that lowlier hearts could feel.
In the convent, clad in gray,
Sat the monks in lonely cells,
Paced the cloisters, knelt to pray,
And the poet heard their bells;
But his rhymes
Found other chimes,
Nearer to the earth than they.
Gone are all the barons bold,
Gone are all the knights and squires,
Gone the abbot stern and cold,
And the brotherhood of friars;
Not a name
Remains to fame,
From those mouldering days of old!
But the poet's memory here
Of the landscape makes a part;
Like the river, swift and clear,
Flows his song through many a heart;
Haunting still
That ancient mill,
In the Valley of the Vire.
Scheme | Ababcca dedeffd gagahhg cicCbBc jkjkaaj lmlmnnl ioioppC qrqrssq atatuux vwvwxxv amambBA |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0010101 1111101 1110101 0010101 101 1101 100111 1011101 1010101 101011 1110111 1101 1101 11010101 1010101 1111111 1010011 1010001 101 1101 1010101 011111 1010101 1010001 10101 111 1101 1010111 1010101 1010111 1011111 1010101 1010 11010 1110011 1110101 0111111 1111001 1110011 101 1111 101011 101001 10010101 10101001 1000111 0101 1011 10101 0010101 111110 1010111 1010111 111 0101 111111 0010101 1010101 1010111 0010111 111 1101 1010111 1110101 11101010 1010101 0010110 101 0111 111111 10101001 101101 1010101 11111001 101 1101 0010101 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,013 |
Words | 381 |
Sentences | 14 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7 |
Lines Amount | 77 |
Letters per line (avg) | 21 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 147 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 34 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 08, 2023
- 1:54 min read
- 88 Views
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"Oliver Basselin. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 12 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/18699/oliver-basselin.-%28birds-of-passage.-flight-the-first%29>.
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