Analysis of Come Up From The Fields, Father
Walt Whitman 1819 (West Hills) – 1892 (Camden)
Come up from the fields, father, here's a letter from our Pete;
And come to the front door, mother-here's a letter from thy dear
son.
Lo, 'tis autumn;
Lo, where the trees, deeper green, yellower and redder,
Cool and sweeten Ohio's villages, with leaves fluttering in the
moderate wind;
Where apples ripe in the orchards hang, and grapes on the trellis'd
vines;
(Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines?
Smell you the buckwheat, where the bees were lately buzzing?)
Above all, lo, the sky, so calm, so transparent after the rain, and
with wondrous clouds;
Below, too, all calm, all vital and beautiful-and the farm prospers
well. 10
Down in the fields all prospers well;
But now from the fields come, father-come at the daughter's call;
And come to the entry, mother-to the front door come, right away.
Fast as she can she hurries-something ominous-her steps trembling;
She does not tarry to smoothe her hair, nor adjust her cap.
Open the envelope quickly;
O this is not our son's writing, yet his name is sign'd;
O a strange hand writes for our dear son-O stricken mother's soul!
All swims before her eyes-flashes with black-she catches the main
words only;
Sentences broken-gun-shot wound in the breast, cavalry skirmish,
taken to hospital, 20
At present low, but will soon be better.
Ah, now, the single figure to me,
Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio, with all its cities and farms,
Sickly white in the face, and dull in the head, very faint,
By the jamb of a door leans.
Grieve not so, dear mother, (the just-grown daughter speaks through
her sobs;
The little sisters huddle around, speechless and dismay'd ;)
See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better.
Alas, poor boy, he will never be better, (nor may-be needs to be
better, that brave and simple soul ;)
While they stand at home at the door, he is dead already; 30
The only son is dead.
But the mother needs to be better;
She, with thin form, presently drest in black;
By day her meals untouch'd-then at night fitfully sleeping, often
waking,
In the midnight waking, weeping, longing with one deep longing,
O that she might withdraw unnoticed-silent from life, escape and
withdraw,
To follow, to seek, to be with her dear dead son.
Scheme | AXB XCXDAEEF GXXH HXX FX IDJXIXXC IXXX XXXC IJIX CXBFFGXB |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 111011010101101 011011101010111 1 1110 1101101100010 10100101001110000 1001 11010010101101 1 1101101101 110110101010 01110111101010010 1101 01111110010000110 1 10011101 11101110110101 0110101010111101 11111101010001100 11110110110101 1001010 11111011011111 1011111011110101 110101101111001 110 1001011100110010 10110 1101111110 110101011 011100100101111001 10100101001101 1011011 1111100111011 01 01010100110001 110100101111110 01111110110111111 10110101 11111101111010 010111 101011110 1111100101 1101011111001010 10 00110101011110 1111010101011010 01 110111110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,507 |
Words | 391 |
Sentences | 13 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 3, 8, 4, 3, 2, 8, 4, 4, 4, 8 |
Lines Amount | 48 |
Letters per line (avg) | 36 |
Words per line (avg) | 10 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 171 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 49 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 28, 2023
- 2:00 min read
- 262 Views
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"Come Up From The Fields, Father" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/37992/come-up-from-the-fields%2C-father>.
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