Analysis of The Step Mother
Susanna Strickland Moodie 1803 (Bungay, River Waveney) – 1885 (Toronto)
Well I recall my Father's wife,
The day he brought her home.
His children looked for years of strife,
And troubles sure to come --
Ungraciously we welcomed her,
A thing to scorn and blame;
And swore we never would confer
On her, a Mother's name
I see her yet -- a girl in years,
With eyes so blue and mild;
She greeted us with smiles and tears,
How sweetly too she smiled --
She bent to kiss my sullen brow,
With woman's gentle grace;
And laid her tiny hand of snow
On my averted face --
"Henry -- is this your son? She said --
"Dear boy -- he now is mine --
What not one kiss? --" I shook my head,
"I am no son of thine! --"
She sighed -- and from her dimpled cheek
The rosy colour fled;
She turned away and did not speak,
My thoughts were with the dead --
There leaped from out my Father's eyes
A jet of swarthy fire;
That flashed on me in fierce surprise --
I fled before his ire
I heard her gentle voice entreat --
"Forgiveness for her sake" --
Which added swiftness to my feet,
A sad and strange mistake --
A year had scarcely rolled away
When by that hated bride;
I loved to linger half the day,
In very joy and pride;
Her voice was music to mine ear,
So soft its accent fell;
"Dear Mother now" -- and oh, how dear
No words of mine can tell --
She was so gentle, fair and kind,
So pure in soul and free from art;
That woman with her noble mind,
Subdued my rebel heart --
I just had learned to know her worth,
My Father's second choice to bless;
When God removed her from the earth,
And plunged us all in deep distress --
Hot fever smote with burning blight
Stretchd on a restless bed of pain;
I moaning lay from morn till night
With aching limbs and throbbing brain --
Four weary weeks beside my bed,
She sat within a darkened room;
Untiring held my aching head,
Nor heeded silence -- cold and gloom --
And when my courage quite gave way,
And fainter grew my struggling breath;
She taught my stricken soul to pray
And calmly meet approaching death --
"Fear not God's angel, sent by Him,
The weary spirit to release;
Before the mortal eyes grow dim,
Floats down the white winged dove of peace" --
There came a change -- but fingers small,
No longer smoothed my matted hair;
She sprang not to my feeble call,
Nor helped to lift me to my chair --
And I arose as from the dead,
A life for her dear life was given;
The angel who had watched my bed
Had vanished into Heaven! --
Scheme | AXAXBCBC XDXDXEXE FGFGHFHF IBIXDJXJ KLKLXMXM NONOPQPQ RSRSFTFT KUKUVWVW XYXYFZFZ |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111101 011101 11011111 010111 11100 011101 01110101 100101 11010101 111101 11011101 110111 11111101 110101 01010111 110101 10111111 111111 11111111 111111 11010101 01011 11010111 110101 11111101 0111010 11110101 110111 1101011 010101 11010111 010101 01110101 111101 11110101 010101 01110111 111011 11010111 111111 11110101 11010111 11010101 011101 11111101 11010111 11010101 01110101 11011101 11010111 11011111 11010101 11010111 11010101 111101 11010101 01110111 010111001 11110111 01010101 11110111 01010101 01010111 11011111 11011101 1101111 11111101 11111111 01011101 011011110 01011111 1100110 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,900 |
Words | 474 |
Sentences | 6 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 72 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 198 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 52 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:24 min read
- 103 Views
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"The Step Mother" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/35850/the-step-mother>.
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