Analysis of Forby Sutherland
A LANE of elms in June;—the air
Of eve is cool and calm and sweet.
See! straying here a youthful pair,
With sad and slowly moving feet,
On hand in hand to yon gray gate,
O’er which the rosy apples swing;
And there they vow a mingled fate,
One day when George the Third is king.
The ring scarce clasped her finger fair,
When, tossing in their ivied tower,
The distant bells made all the air
Melodious with that golden hour.
Then sank the sun out o’er the sea,
Sweet day of courtship fond,… the last!
The holy hours of twilight flee
And speed to join the sacred Past.
The house-dove on the moss-grown thatch
Is murmuring love-songs to his mate,
As lovely Nell now lifts the latch
Beneath the apples at the gate.
A plighted maid she nears her home,
Those gentle eyes with weeping red;
Too soon her swain must breast the foam,
Alas! with that last hour he fled.
And, ah! that dust-cloud on the road,
Yon heartless coach-guard’s blaring horn;
But naught beside, that spoke or showed
Her sailor to poor Nell forlorn.
She dreams; and lo! a ship that ploughs
A foamy furrow through the seas,
As, plunging gaily, from her bows
She scatters diamonds on the breeze.
Swift, homeward bound, with flags displayed
In pennoned pomp, with drum and fife,
And all the proud old-world parade
That marks the man-o’-war man’s life.
She dreams and dreams; her heart’s at sea;
Dreams while she wears the golden ring;
Her spirit follows lovingly
One humble servant of the king.
And thus for years, since Hope survives
To cheer the maid and nerve the youth.
“Forget-me-not!”—how fair it thrives
Where planted in the soil of Truth!
The skies are changed; and o’er the sea,
Within a calm, sequestered nook,
Rests at her anchor thankfully
The tall-sterned ship of gallant Cook.
The emerald shores ablaze with flowers,
The sea reflects the smiling sky,
Soft breathes the air of perfumed bowers—
How sad to leave it all, and die!
To die, when all around is fair
And steeped in beauty;—ah! ’t is hard
When ease and joy succeed to care,
And rest, to “watch” and “mounted guard.”
But harder still, when one dear plan,
The end of all his life and cares,
Hangs by a thread; the dying man
Most needs our sympathy and prayers!
’T was thus with Forby as he lay
Wan in his narrow canvas cot;
Sole tenant of the lone “sick bay,”
Though “mates” came round, he heard them not.
For days his spirit strove and fought,
But, ah! the frame was all too weak.
Some phantom strange it seemed he sought,
And vainly tried to rise and speak.
At last he smiled and brightened up,
The noonday bugle went; and he
Drained (’t was his last) the cooling cup
A messmate offered helpfully.
His tongue was loosed—“I hear the horn!
Ah, Nell! my number ’s flying. See!—
The horses too;—they ’ve had their corn.
Alas, dear love!… I part from thee!”
He waved his wasted hand, and cried,
“Sweet Nell! Dear maid! My own true Nell!
The coach won’t wait for me!”… and died—
And this was Forby’s strange farewell.
Next morn the barge, with muffled oars,
Pulls slowly forth, and leaves the slip
With flags half-mast, and gains the shores,
While silence seals each comrade’s lip.
They bury him beneath a tree,
His treasure in his bosom hid.
What was that treasure? Go and see!
Long since it burst his coffin-lid!
Nell gave to Forby, once in play,
Some hips of roses, with the seeds
Of hedgerow plants, and flowerets gay
(In England such might count for weeds).
“Take these,” cries smiling Nell, “to sow
In foreign lands; and when folk see
The English roses bloom and grow,
Some one may bless an unknown me.”
The turf lies green on Forby’s bed,
A hundred years have passed, and more,
But twining over Forby’s head
Are Nell’s sweet roses on that shore.
The violet and the eglantine,
With sweet-breathed cowslips, deck the spot,
And nestling ’mid them in
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01110101 11110101 11010101 11010101 11011111 11010101 01110101 11110111 01110101 11001110 01011101 0100111010 11011101 1111101 01010111 01110101 01110111 110011111 11011101 01010101 0111101 11011101 11011101 011111011 01111101 11011101 11011111 01011101 11010111 01010101 11010101 1110101 11011101 0111101 01011101 11011111 11010111 11110101 01010100 11010101 01111101 11010101 01111111 11000111 01110101 01010101 11010100 01111101 010101110 01010101 110110110 11111101 11110111 010101111 11010111 01110101 11011111 01111101 11010101 111010001 11111111 10110101 11010111 11111111 11110101 11011111 11011111 01011101 11110101 0110101 111110101 0110100 11111101 111101101 010111111 01111111 11110101 11111111 01111101 011111 11011101 11010101 11110101 1101111 11010101 11001101 11110101 11111101 1111101 11110101 111011 01011111 11110111 01010111 01010101 11111011 0111111 01011101 1101011 11110111 01000010 1111101 010110 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 4,334 |
Words | 697 |
Sentences | 49 |
Stanzas | 26 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 3 |
Lines Amount | 103 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 112 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 26 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:29 min read
- 99 Views
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"Forby Sutherland" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/15321/forby-sutherland>.
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