Analysis of Sunset On The Bearcamp
John Greenleaf Whittier 1807 (Haverhill) – 1892 (Hampton Falls)
A gold fringe on the purpling hem
Of hills the river runs,
As down its long, green valley falls
The last of summer's suns.
Along its tawny gravel-bed
Broad-flowing, swift, and still,
As if its meadow levels felt
The hurry of the hill,
Noiseless between its banks of green
From curve to curve it slips;
The drowsy maple-shadows rest
Like fingers on its lips.
A waif from Carroll's wildest hills,
Unstoried and unknown;
The ursine legend of its name
Prowls on its banks alone.
Yet flowers as fair its slopes adorn
As ever Yarrow knew,
Or, under rainy Irish skies,
By Spenser's Mulla grew;
And through the gaps of leaning trees
Its mountain cradle shows
The gold against the amethyst,
The green against the rose.
Touched by a light that hath no name,
A glory never sung,
Aloft on sky and mountain wall
Are God's great pictures hung.
How changed the summits vast and old!
No longer granite-browed,
They melt in rosy mist; the rock
Is softer than the cloud;
The valley holds its breath; no leaf
Of all its elms is twirled
The silence of eternity
Seems falling on the world.
The pause before the breaking seals
Of mystery is this;
Yon miracle-play of night and day
Makes dumb its witnesses.
What unseen altar crowns the hills
That reach up stair on stair?
What eyes look through, what white wings fan
These purple veils of air?
What Presence from the heavenly heights
To those of earth stoops down?
Not vainly Hellas dreamed of gods
On Ida's snowy crown!
Slow fades the vision of the sky,
The golden water pales,
And over all the valley-land
A gray-winged vapor sails.
I go the common way of all;
The sunset fires will burn,
The flowers will blow, the river flow,
When I no more return.
No whisper from the mountain pine
Nor lapsing stream shall tell
The stranger, treading where I tread,
Of him who loved them well.
But beauty seen is never lost,
God's colors all are fast;
The glory of this sunset heaven
Into my soul has passed,
A sense of gladness unconfined
To mortal date or clime;
As the soul liveth, it shall live
Beyond the years of time.
Beside the mystic asphodels
Shall bloom the home-born flowers,
And new horizons flush and glow
With sunset hues of ours.
Farewell! these smiling hills must wear
Too soon their wintry frown,
And snow-cold winds from off them shake
The maple's red leaves down.
But I shall see a summer sun
Still setting broad and low;
The mountain slopes shall blush and bloom,
The golden water flow.
A lover's claim is mine on all
I see to have and hold,--
The rose-light of perpetual hills,
And sunsets never cold!
Scheme | ABXB CDXDXEXE FGHGXIXIXJXJ HKLKMNXNXOXO XXXXFPXPXQXQ XRXRLSTSXUCU XVWVXAXXBXTX PQXQWTXTLMFM |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0111011 110101 11111101 011101 01110101 110101 1111101 010101 1011111 111111 0101011 110111 01110101 1001 0110111 111101 110111101 110101 11010101 11011 01011101 110101 01010100 010101 11011111 010101 01110101 111101 11010101 110101 11010101 110101 01011111 111111 01010100 110101 01010101 110011 110011101 111100 10110101 111111 11111111 110111 110101001 111111 1101111 11101 11010101 010101 01010101 011101 11010111 011011 010110101 111101 11010101 110111 01010111 111111 11011101 110111 01011110 011111 011101 110111 1011111 010111 010101 1101110 01010101 111110 1110111 111101 01111111 01111 11110101 110101 01011101 010101 01011111 111101 011101001 01101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,465 |
Words | 461 |
Sentences | 22 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 8, 12, 12, 12, 12, 12, 12 |
Lines Amount | 84 |
Letters per line (avg) | 24 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 250 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 57 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:20 min read
- 53 Views
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"Sunset On The Bearcamp" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23042/sunset-on-the-bearcamp>.
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