Analysis of An Appeal to My Countywomen
You can sigh o'er the sad-eyed Armenian
Who weeps in her desolate home.
You can mourn o'er the exile of Russia
From kindred and friends doomed to roam.
You can pity the men who have woven
From passion and appetite chains
To coil with a terrible tension
Around their heartstrings and brains.
You can sorrow o'er little children
Disinherited from their birth,
The wee waifs and toddlers neglected,
Robbed of sunshine, music and mirth.
For beasts you have gentle compassion;
Your mercy and pity they share.
For the wretched, outcast and fallen
You have tenderness, love and care.
But hark! from our Southland are floating
Sobs of anguish, murmurs of pain,
And women heart-stricken are weeping
Over their tortured and their slain.
On their brows the sun has left traces;
Shrink not from their sorrow in scorn.
When they entered the threshold of being
The children of a King were born.
Each comes as a guest to the table
The hand of our God has outspread,
To fountains that ever leap upward,
To share in the soil we all tread.
When ye plead for the wrecked and fallen,
The exile from far-distant shores,
Remember that men are still wasting
Life's crimson around your own doors.
Have ye not, oh, my favored sisters,
Just a plea, a prayer or a tear,
For mothers who dwell 'neath the shadows
Of agony, hatred and fear?
Men may tread down the poor and lowly,
May crush them in anger and hate,
But surely the mills of God's justice
Will grind out the grist of their fate.
Oh, people sin-laden and guilty,
So lusty and proud in your prime,
The sharp sickles of God's retribution
Will gather your harvest of crime.
Weep not, oh my well-sheltered sisters,
Weep not for the Negro alone,
But weep for your sons who must gather
The crops which their fathers have sown.
Go read on the tombstones of nations
Of chieftains who masterful trod,
The sentence which time has engraven,
That they had forgotten their God.
'Tis the judgment of God that men reap
The tares which in madness they sow,
Sorrow follows the footsteps of crime,
And Sin is the consort of Woe.
Scheme | ABXB ACAC ADED AFAF GHGH XIGI XEXX AJGJ KFXX LMXM LNAN KOXO XPAP XXNX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Quatrain (79%) |
Metre | 111100110100 11001001 1111001110 11001111 1110011110 1100101 111010010 011101 1110101010 1111 011010010 1111001 111110010 11001011 10101010 11100101 111101110 11101011 010110110 10110011 111011110 11111001 111001110 01010101 111011010 01110111 110110110 11001111 111101010 0111101 010111110 11001111 111111010 10101101 11011101 11001001 111101010 11101001 110011110 11101111 110110010 11001011 011011010 11011011 111111010 11101001 111111110 01111011 11101110 11011001 0101111 11101011 101011111 01101011 10100111 01100111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,050 |
Words | 367 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 14 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 56 |
Letters per line (avg) | 29 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 115 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 26 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:52 min read
- 116 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"An Appeal to My Countywomen" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/13699/an-appeal-to-my-countywomen>.
Discuss this Frances Ellen Watkins Harper poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In