Analysis of The Oleomargarine Man
Ambrose Bierce 1842 (Meigs County) – 1914 (Chihuahua)
Once-in the county of Marin,
Where milk is sold to purchase gin
Renowned for butter and renowned
For fourteen ounces to the pound
A bull stood watching every turn
Of Mr. Wilson with a churn,
As that deigning worthy stalked
About him, eying as he walked,
El Toro's sleek and silken hide,
His neck, his flank and all beside;
Thinking with secret joy: 'I'll spread
That mammal on a slice of bread!'
Soon Mr. Wilson's keen concern
To get the creature in his churn
Unhorsed his caution-made him blind
To the fell vigor of bullkind,
Till, filled with valor to the teeth,
He drew his dasher from its sheath
And bravely brandished it; the while
He smiled a dark, portentous smile;
A deep, sepulchral smile; a wide
And open smile, which, at his side,
The churn to copy vainly tried;
A smile so like the dawn of doom
That all the field was palled in gloom,
And all the trees within a mile,
As tribute to that awful smile,
Made haste, with loyalty discreet,
To fling their shadows at his feet.
Then rose his battle-cry: 'I'll spread
That mammal on a slice of bread!'
To such a night the day had turned
That Taurus dimly was discerned.
He wore so meek and grave an air
It seemed as if, engaged in prayer
This thunderbolt incarnate had
No thought of anything that's bad:
This concentrated earthquake stood
And gave his mind to being good.
Lightly and low he drew his breath
This magazine of sudden death!
All this the thrifty Wilson's glance
Took in, and, crying, 'Now's my chance!'
Upon the bull he sprang amain
To put him in his churn. Again
Rang out his battle-yell: 'I'll spread
That mammal on a slice of bread!'
Sing, Muse, that battle-royal-sing
The deeds that made the region ring,
The blows, the bellowing, the cries,
The dust that darkened all the skies,
The thunders of the contest, all
Nay, none of these things did befall.
A yell there was-a rush-no more:
El Toro, tranquil as before,
Still stood there basking in the sun,
Nor of his legs had shifted one
Stood there and conjured up his cud
And meekly munched it. Scenes of blood
Had little charm for him. His head
He merely nodded as he said:
'I've spread that butterman upon
A slice of Southern Oregon.'
Scheme | aabbccddeefF ccxbgghheeeiihhjjfF kkllmmnnooppaxfF qqrrssttuubxffxu |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10010110 11111101 01110001 11110101 011101001 11010101 1110101 0111111 1110101 11110101 10110111 11010111 11010101 11010011 01110111 1011011 11110101 11110111 01010101 11010101 011101 01011111 01110101 01110111 11011101 01010101 11011101 11110001 1111111 11110111 11010111 11010111 11010101 11110111 11110101 1100101 1111011 110011 01111101 10011111 1101101 11010101 10010111 0101111 11101101 11110111 11010111 11110101 01110101 01010001 01110101 01010101 11111101 01110111 11010101 11110001 11111101 11010111 01011111 11011111 11010111 111101 01110100 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,100 |
Words | 400 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 12, 19, 16, 16 |
Lines Amount | 63 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 419 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 98 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:01 min read
- 66 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Oleomargarine Man" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/1956/the-oleomargarine-man>.
Discuss this Ambrose Bierce 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