Analysis of Beyond the blue



Speak of you, sir? You bet he did. Ben Fields was far too sound
To go back on a fellow just because he weren't around.
Why, sir, he thought a lot of you, and only three months back
Says he, "The Squire will some time come a-snuffing out our track
And give us the surprise." And so I got to thinking then
That any day you might drop down on Rove, and me, and Ben.
And now you've come for nothing, for the lad has left us two,
And six long weeks ago, sir, he went up beyond the blue.

Who's Rove? Oh, he's the collie, and the only thing on earth
That I will ever love again. Why, Squire, that dog is worth
More than you ever handled, and that's quite a piece, I know.
Ah, there the beggar is!--come here, you scalawag! and show
Your broken leg all bandaged up. Yes, sir, it's pretty sore;
I did it,--curse me,--and I think I feel the pain far more
Than him, for somehow I just feel as if I'd been untrue
To what my brother said before he went beyond the blue.

You see, the day before he died he says to me, "Say, Ned,
Be sure you take good care of poor old Rover when I'm dead,
And maybe he will cheer your lonesome hours up a bit,
And when he takes to you just see that you're deserving it."
Well, Squire, it wasn't any use. I tried, but couldn't get
The friendship of that collie, for I needed it, you bet.
I might as well have tried to get the moon to help me through,
For Rover's heart had gone with Ben, 'way up beyond the blue.

He never seemed to take to me nor follow me about,
For all I coaxed and petted, for my heart was starving out
For want of some companionship,--I thought, if only he
Would lick my hand or come and put his head aside my knee,
Perhaps his touch would scatter something of the gloom away.
But all alone I had to live until there came a day
When, tired of the battle, as you'd have tired too,
I wished to heaven I'd gone with Ben, 'way up beyond the blue.

One morning I took out Ben's gun, and thought I'd hunt all day,
And started through the clearing for the bush that forward lay,
When something made me look around--I scarce believed my mind--
But, sure enough, the dog was following right close behind.
A feeling first of joy, and than a sharper, greater one
Of anger came, at knowing 'twas not me, but Ben's old gun,
That Rove was after,--well, sir, I just don't mind telling you,
But I forgot that moment Ben was up beyond the blue.

Perhaps it was but jealousy--perhaps it was despair,
But I just struck him with the gun and broke the bone right there;
And then--my very throat seemed choked, for he began to whine
With pain--God knows how tenderly I took that dog of mine
Up in my arms, and tore my old red necktie into bands
To bind the broken leg, while there he lay and licked my hands;
And though I cursed my soul, it was the brightest day I knew,
Or even cared to live, since Ben went up beyond the blue.

I tell you, Squire, I nursed him just as gently as could be,
And now I'm all the world to him, and he's the world to me.
Look, sir, at that big, noble soul, right in his faithful eyes,
The square, forgiving honesty that deep down in them lies.
Eh, Squire? What's that you say? He's got no soul? I tell you, then,
He's grander and he's better than the mass of what's called men;
And I guess he stands a better chance than many of us do
Of seeing Ben some day again, 'way up beyond the blue.


Scheme AABBCCDD EEFFGGDD HHIIJJDD KKLLMMDD MMNNOODD PPQQRRDD LLSSCCDD
Poetic Form
Metre 11111111111111 111101010111001 11110111010111 110111110101101 01100101111101 11011111110101 01111101011111 01110111110101 11110100010111 11110101111111 11110100110111 110101111101 11011101111101 11111011110111 1111111111101 11110101110101 11010111111111 11111111110111 01011111010101 01111111110101 11110101111101 01011101110111 11111111011111 11011111110101 11011111110101 11110101111101 1111010111101 11111101110111 01111101010101 11011111011101 1101010111101 111101111110101 11011111011111 01010101011101 11011101110111 11010111001101 01011101010101 11011101111111 11110111111101 11011101110101 01111100011101 11111101010111 01110111110111 11111100111111 1011011111011 11010111110111 01111111010111 11011111110101 11111111110111 01110111010111 11111101101101 01010100111011 11111111111111 11001101011111 011110101110111 11011101110101
Closest metre Iambic heptameter
Characters 3,387
Words 671
Sentences 34
Stanzas 7
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8
Lines Amount 56
Letters per line (avg) 45
Words per line (avg) 12
Letters per stanza (avg) 358
Words per stanza (avg) 94
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:28 min read
87

Emily Pauline Johnson

Emily Pauline Johnson Tekahionwake commonly known as E Pauline Johnson or just Pauline Johnson was a Canadian writer and performer popular in the late 19th century Pauline Johnson was notable for her poems and performances that celebrated her aboriginal heritage One such poem is the frequently anthologized The Song My Paddle Sings Her poetry was published in Canada the United States and Great Britain Johnson was one of a generation of widely read writers who began to define a Canadian national literature more…

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