Analysis of The Weather Wight
Ambrose Bierce 1842 (Meigs County) – 1914 (Chihuahua)
The way was long, the hill was steep,
My footing scarcely I could keep.
The night enshrouded me in gloom,
I heard the ocean's distant boom
The trampling of the surges vast
Was borne upon the rising blast.
'God help the mariner,' I cried,
'Whose ship to-morrow braves the tide!'
Then from the impenetrable dark
A solemn voice made this remark:
'For this locality-warm, bright;
Barometer unchanged; breeze light.'
'Unseen consoler-man,' I cried,
'Whoe'er you are, where'er abide,
'Thanks-but my care is somewhat less
For Jack's, than for my own, distress.
'Could I but find a friendly roof,
Small odds what weather were aloof.
'For he whose comfort is secure
Another's woes can well endure.'
'The latch-string's out,' the voice replied,
'And so's the door-jes' step inside.'
Then through the darkness I discerned
A hovel, into which I turned.
Groping about beneath its thatch,
I struck my head and then a match.
A candle by that gleam betrayed
Soon lent paraffinaceous aid.
A pallid, bald and thin old man
I saw, who this complaint began:
'Through summer suns and winter snows
I sets observin' of my toes.
'I rambles with increasin' pain
The path of duty, but in vain.
'Rewards and honors pass me by
No Congress hears this raven cry!'
Filled with astonishment, I spoke:
'Thou ancient raven, why this croak?
'With observation of your toes
What Congress has to do, Heaven knows!
'And swallow me if e'er I knew
That one could sit and ramble too!'
To answer me that ancient swain
Took up his parable again:
'Through winter snows and summer suns
A Weather Bureau here I runs.
'I calls the turn, and can declare
Jes' when she'll storm and when she'll fair.
'Three times a day I sings out clear
The probs to all which wants to hear.
'Some weather stations run with light
Frivolity is seldom right.
'A scientist from times remote,
In Scienceville my birth is wrote.
'And when I h'ist the 'rainy' sign
Jes' take your clo'es in off the line.'
'Not mine, O marvelous old man,
The methods of your art to scan,
'Yet here no instruments there be-
Nor 'ometer nor 'scope I see.
'Did you (if questions you permit)
At the asylum leave your kit?'
That strange old man with motion rude
Grew to surprising altitude.
'Tools (and sarcazzems too) I scorns-
I tells the weather by my corns.
'No doors and windows here you see-
The wind and m'isture enters free.
'No fires nor lights, no wool nor fur
Here falsifies the tempercher.
'My corns unleathered I expose
To feel the rain's foretellin' throes.
'No stockin' from their ears keeps out
The comin' tempest's warnin' shout.
'Sich delicacy some has got
They know next summer's to be hot.
'This here one says (for that he's best):
'Storm center passin' to the west.'
'This feller's vitals is transfixed
With frost for Janawary sixt'.
'One chap jes' now is occy'pied
In fig'rin on next Fridy's tide.
'I've shaved this cuss so thin and true
He'll spot a fog in South Peru.
'Sech are my tools, which ne'er a swell
Observatory can excel.
'By long a-studyin' their throbs
I catches onto all the probs.'
Much more, no doubt, he would have said,
But suddenly he turned and fled;
For in mine eye's indignant green
Lay storms that he had not foreseen,
Till all at once, with silent squeals,
His toes 'caught on' and told his heels.
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01110111 11010111 01010101 11010101 01010101 11010101 11010011 11110101 110010001 01011101 11010011 01000111 011111 1111001 11111111 11111101 11110101 11110001 11110101 01011101 01110101 01011101 11010101 01001111 10010111 11110101 01011101 1111 01010111 11110101 11010101 111111 11111 01110101 01010111 11011101 11010011 11010111 1010111 110111101 010111011 11110101 11011101 11110001 11010101 01010111 11010101 11110111 11011111 01111111 11010111 01001101 01001101 011111 01110101 11110101 11110011 01011111 11110011 111111 11110101 10010111 11111101 1101010 101111 11010111 11010111 0101101 110111111 1101 111101 110111 1111111 01111 11000111 11110111 11111111 1101101 111101 11111 111111 011111 11111101 11010101 11111101 0100101 110111 11010101 11111111 11001101 10110101 1111111 11111101 11110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,161 |
Words | 589 |
Sentences | 40 |
Stanzas | 47 |
Stanza Lengths | 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2 |
Lines Amount | 94 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 53 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 12 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:00 min read
- 101 Views
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"The Weather Wight" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/1987/the-weather-wight>.
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