My Comrade
Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1855 (Janesville) – 1919
Out from my window westward
I turn full oft my face;
But the mountains rebuke the vision
That would encompass space;
They lift their lofty foreheads
To the kiss of the clouds above,
And ask, "With all our glory,
Can we not win your love?"
I answer, "No, oh mountains!
I see that you are grand;
But you have not the breadth and beauty
Of the fields in my own land;
You narrow my range of vision
And you even shut from me
The voice of my old comrade,
The West Wind wild and free."
But to-day I climbed the mountains
On the back of a snow-white steed,
And the West Wind came to greet me--
He flew on the wings of speed.
His charger, and mine that bore me,
Went gaily neck to neck,
Till the town in the valley belkow us
Looked like a small, dark speck.
And oh! what tales he whispered
As he rode there by me,
Of friends whose smiling faces
I am so soon to see.
And the mountains frowned in anger,
Because I balked their spite,
And met my old-time comrade
There on their very height;
But I laughed up in their faces,
As I rode slowly back,
While the Wind went faster and faster,
Like a race-horse on the track.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:06 min read
- 67 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABCBXDED FGEGCEHE FIEIEJXJ AEKELMHM KNLN |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,109 |
Words | 222 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 4 |
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"My Comrade" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/10717/my-comrade>.
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