Analysis of The Homestead
John Greenleaf Whittier 1807 (Haverhill) – 1892 (Hampton Falls)
AGAINST the wooded hills it stands,
Ghost of a dead home, staring through
Its broken lights on wasted lands
Where old-time harvests grew.
Unploughed, unsown, by scythe unshorn,
The poor, forsaken farm-fields lie,
Once rich and rife with golden corn
And pale green breadths of rye.
Of healthful herb and flower bereft,
The garden plot no housewife keeps;
Through weeds and tangle only left,
The snake, its tenant, creeps.
A lilac spray, still blossom-clad,
Sways slow before the empty rooms;
Beside the roofless porch a sad
Pathetic red rose blooms.
His track, in mould and dust of drouth,
On floor and hearth the squirrel leaves,
And in the fireless chimney's mouth
His web the spider weaves.
The leaning barn, about to fall,
Resounds no more on husking eves;
No cattle low in yard or stall,
No thresher beats his sheaves.
So sad, so drear! It seems almost
Some haunting Presence makes its sign;
That down yon shadowy lane some ghost
Might drive his spectral kine!
O home so desolate and lorn!
Did all thy memories die with thee?
Were any wed, were any born,
Beneath this low roof-tree?
Whose axe the wall of forest broke,
And let the waiting sunshine through?
What goodwife sent the earliest smoke
Up the great chimney flue?
Did rustic lovers hither come?
Did maidens, swaying back and forth
In rhythmic grace, at wheel and loom,
Make light their toil with mirth?
Did child feet patter on the stair?
Did boyhood frolic in the snow?
Did gray age, in her elbow chair,
Knit, rocking to and fro?
The murmuring brook, the sighing breeze,
The pine's slow whisper, cannot tell;
Low mounds beneath the hemlock-trees
Keep the home secrets well.
Cease, mother-land, to fondly boast
Of sons far off who strive and thrive,
Forgetful that each swarming host
Must leave an emptier hive.
O wanderers from ancestral soil,
Leave noisome mill and chaffering store:
Gird up your loins for sturdier toil,
And build the home once more!
Come back to bayberry-scented slopes,
And fragrant fern, and ground-nut vine;
Breathe airs blown over holt and copse
Sweet with black birch and pine.
What matter if the gains are small
That life's essential wants supply?
Your homestead's title gives you all
That idle wealth can buy.
All that the many-dollared crave,
The brick-walled slaves of 'Change and mart,
Lawns, trees, fresh air, and flowers, you have,
More dear for lack of art.
Your own sole masters, freedom-willed,
With none to bid you go or stay,
Till the old fields your fathers tilled,
As manly men as they!
With skill that spares your toiling hands,
And chemic aid that science brings,
Reclaim the waste and outworn lands,
And reign thereon as kings
Scheme | ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH IJIJ KJKJ LCLC CICX MBMB XIXI NCNX OPOP LQLQ RSRS XCAC KDKD XTXT XXEI AUAU |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Quatrain (95%) |
Metre | 01010111 11011101 11011101 111101 11111 01010111 11011101 011111 110101001 0101111 11010101 011101 0111101 11010101 0101101 010111 11010111 11010101 000111 110101 01010111 111111 11010111 110111 1111111 11010111 111100111 11111 11110001 111100111 01010101 011111 11011101 0101011 11101001 101101 11010101 11010101 01011101 111111 11110101 1110001 1110011 110101 010010101 01110101 1101011 101101 11011101 11111101 01011101 1111001 110010101 111011 111111001 010111 1111101 01010111 11110101 111101 11010111 11010101 1110111 110111 1101011 01111101 111101011 111111 11110101 11111111 10111101 110111 11111101 0111101 0101011 010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,564 |
Words | 454 |
Sentences | 27 |
Stanzas | 19 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 76 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 109 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 24 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 09, 2023
- 2:17 min read
- 113 Views
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"The Homestead" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23118/the-homestead>.
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