Analysis of The Queen Of Yore
William Henry Ogilvie 1869 (Scotland) – 1963
Slowly she hobbles past the town, grown old at heart and gray;
With misty eyes she stumbles down along the well-known way;
She sees her maiden march unrolled by billabong and bend,
And every gum's a comrade old and every oak's a friend;
But gone the smiling faces that welcomed her of yore -
They crowd her tented places and hold her hand no more.
And she, the friend they once could trust to serve their eager wish,
Shall show no more the golden dust that hides in many a dish;
And through the dismal mullock-heaps she threads her mournful way
Where here and there some gray-beard keeps his windlass-watch to-day;
Half-flood no more she looses her reins as once of old
To wash the busy sluices and whisper through the gold.
She sees no wild-eyed steers above stand spear-horned on the brink;
The brumby mobs she used to love come down no more to drink;
Where green the grasses used to twine above them, shoulder-deep,
Through the red dust - a long, slow line - crawl in the starving sheep;
She sees no crossing cattle that Western drovers bring,
No swimming steeds that battle to block them when they ring.
She sees no barricaded roofs, no loop-holed station wall,
No foaming steed with flying hoofs to bring the word 'Ben Hall!'
She sees no reckless robbers stoop behind their ambush stone,
No coach-and-four, no escort troop; - but, very lorn and lone,
Watches the sunsets redden along the mountain side
Where round the spurs of Weddin the wraiths of Weddin ride.
Tho' fettered with her earthen bars and chained with bridge and weir
She goes her own way with the stars; she knows the course to steer!
And when her thousand rocky rills foam, angry, to her feet,
Rain-heavy from the Cowra hills she takes her vengeance sweet,
And leaps with roar of thunder, and buries bridge and ford,
That all the world may wonder when the Lachlan bares her sword!
Gray River! let me take your hand for all your memories old -
Your cattle-kings, your outlaw-band, your wealth of virgin gold;
For once you held, and hold it now, the sceptre of a queen,
And still upon your furrowed brow the royal wreaths are green;
Hold wide your arms, the waters! Lay bare your silver breast
To nurse the sons and daughters that spread your empire west!
Scheme | AABBCCDDAAEEFFGGHH IIJJKK XXLLMM EENNOO |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10110101111101 11011101010111 11010111101 010010110100101 1101010110011 110110010111 01011111111101 111101011101001 0101011110101 11011111110111 1111110011111 110101010101 11111101111101 0111111111111 11010111011101 10110111100101 111101011011 1101110111111 1111001111101 11011101110111 1111010101111 11011011110101 100110010101 11011101111 11010101011101 11011101110111 01010101110101 1101011110101 0111110010101 11011101010101 110111111111001 1101111111101 11110111010101 01011101010111 1111010111101 11010101111001 |
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 2,196 |
Words | 403 |
Sentences | 11 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 18, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 36 |
Letters per line (avg) | 49 |
Words per line (avg) | 11 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 438 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 100 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:01 min read
- 29 Views
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"The Queen Of Yore" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/40804/the-queen-of-yore>.
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