Analysis of The Blind Rower
And since he rowed his father home,
His hand has never touched an oar.
All day he wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the swishing foam.
Though blind from birth, he still could row
As well as any lad with sight;
And knew strange things that none may know
Save those who live without the light.
When they put out that Summer eve
To sink the lobster-pots at sea,
The sun was crimson in the sky;
And not a breath was in the sky;
The brooding, thunder-laden sky,
That, heavily and wearily,
Weighed down upon the waveless sea
That scarcely seamed to heave.
The pots were safely sunk; and then
The father gave the word for home:
He took the tiller in his hand,
And, in hi s heart already home,
He brought her nose round towards the land,
To steer her straight for home.
He never spoke,
Nor stirred again:
A sudden stroke,
And he lay dead,
With staring eyes, and lips off lead.
The son rowed on, and nothing feared:
And sometimes, merrily,
He lifted up his voice, and sang,
Both high and low,
And loud and sweet:
For he was ever gay at sea,
And ever glad to row,
And rowed as only blind men row:
And little did the blind lad know
That death was at his feet:
For still he thought his father steered;
Nor knew that he was all alone
With death upon the open sea.
So merrily, he rowed, and sang:
And, strangely on the silence rang
That lonely melody,
As, through the livid, brooding gloam,
By rock and reef, he rowed for home--
The blind man rowed the dead man home.
But, as they neared the shore,
He rested on his oar:
And, wondering that his father kept
So very quiet in the stern,
He laughed, and asked him if he slept;
And vowed he heard him snore just now.
Though, when his father spoke no word,
A sudden fear upon him came:
And, crying on his father's name,
With flinching heart, he heard
The water lapping on the shore;
And all his blood ran cold, to feel
The shingle grate beneath the keel:
And stretching over towards the stern,
His knuckle touched the dead man's brow.
But help was near at hand;
And safe he came to land:
Though none has ever known
How he rowed in, alone,
And never touched a reef.
Some say they saw the dead man steer--
The dead man steer the blind man home--
Though, when they found him dead,
His hand was cold as lead.
So, ever restless, to and fro,
In every sort of weather,
The blind lad wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the foam.
His hand has never touched an oar,
Since they came home together--
The blind, who rowed his father home--
The dear, who steered his blind son home.
Scheme | aBbacdcd efgggffe haiaia jhjkk lfmcnfcccnlofmmfaaa bbpqprsttsbuuqr iiooxxakk cvbaBvaa |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01111101 11110111 11110101 0101011 11111111 11110111 01111111 11110101 11111101 11010111 01110001 01011001 01010101 11000100 1101011 110111 01010101 01010111 11010011 001110101 110110101 110111 1101 1101 0101 0111 11010111 01110101 001100 11011101 1101 0101 11110111 010111 01110111 01010111 111111 11111101 11111101 11010101 11001101 01010101 110100 11010101 11011111 01110111 111101 110111 010011101 11010001 11011111 01111111 11110111 01010111 01011101 110111 01010101 01111111 01010101 010100101 11010111 111111 011111 111101 111001 010101 11110111 01110111 111111 111111 11010101 01001110 01110101 010101 11110111 1111010 01111101 01111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,507 |
Words | 483 |
Sentences | 15 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 6, 5, 19, 15, 9, 8 |
Lines Amount | 78 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 240 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 60 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:25 min read
- 96 Views
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"The Blind Rower" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/38566/the-blind-rower>.
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