Analysis of The Eve Of Election
John Greenleaf Whittier 1807 (Haverhill) – 1892 (Hampton Falls)
FROM gold to gray
Our mild sweet day
Of Indian Summer fades too soon;
But tenderly
Above the sea
Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.
In its pale fire,
The village spire
Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance;
The painted walls
Whereon it falls
Transfigured stand in marble trance!
O'er fallen leaves
The west-wind grieves,
Yet comes a seed-time round again;
And morn shall see
The State sown free
With baleful tares or healthful grain.
Along the street
The shadows meet
Of Destiny, whose hands conceal
The moulds of fate
That shape the State,
And make or mar the common weal.
Around I see
The powers that be;
I stand by Empire's primal springs;
And princes meet,
In every street,
And hear the tread of uncrowned kings!
Hark! through the crowd
The laugh runs loud,
Beneath the sad, rebuking moon.
God save the land
A careless hand
May shake or swerve ere morrow's noon!
No jest is this;
One cast amiss
May blast the hope of Freedom's year.
Oh, take me where
Are hearts of prayer,
And foreheads bowed in reverent fear!
Not lightly fall
Beyond recall
The written scrolls a breath can float;
The crowning fact
The kingliest act
Of Freedom is the freeman's vote!
For pearls that gem
A diadem
The diver in the deep sea dies;
The regal right
We boast to-night
Is ours through costlier sacrifice;
The blood of Vane,
His prison pain
Who traced the path the Pilgrim trod,
And hers whose faith
Drew strength from death,
And prayed her Russell up to God!
Our hearts grow cold,
We lightly hold
A right which brave men died to gain;
The stake, the cord,
The axe, the sword,
Grim nurses at its birth of pain.
The shadow rend,
And o'er us bend,
O martyrs, with your crowns and palms;
Breathe through these throngs
Your battle songs,
Your scaffold prayers, and dungeon psalms!
Look from the sky,
Like God's great eye,
Thou solemn moon, with searching beam,
Till in the sight
Of thy pure light
Our mean self-seekings meaner seem.
Shame from our hearts
Unworthy arts,
The fraud designed, the purpose dark;
And smite away
The hands we lay
Profanely on the sacred ark.
To party claims
And private aims,
Reveal that august face of Truth,
Whereto are given
The age of heaven,
The beauty of immortal youth.
So shall our voice
Of sovereign choice
Swell the deep bass of duty done,
And strike the key
Of time to be,
When God and man shall speak as one!
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111 10111 110010111 1100 0101 11010101 01110 0101 110111 0101 111 110101 10101 0111 11011101 0111 0111 11011101 0101 011 11001101 0111 1101 01110101 0111 01011 111100101 0101 01001 0101111 1101 0111 01010101 1101 0101 1111111 1111 1101 11011101 1111 1111 01101001 1101 011 01010111 0101 011 11010101 1111 010 01000111 0101 1111 110110010 0111 1101 11010101 0011 1111 01010111 10111 1101 01111111 0101 0101 11011111 011 01011 11011101 1111 1101 11010101 1101 1111 11011101 1001 1111 10111101 11101 0101 01010101 0101 0111 110101 1101 0101 01110111 1110 01110 01010101 11101 1101 10111101 0101 1111 11011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,245 |
Words | 424 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 96 |
Lines Amount | 96 |
Letters per line (avg) | 19 |
Words per line (avg) | 4 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,832 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 422 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:10 min read
- 132 Views
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"The Eve Of Election" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23091/the-eve-of-election>.
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