To G. C
They say our president has stuckAbove his good wife's doorThe sign provocative of luck--A horseshoe--nothing more.
Be hushed, O party hates, the whileThat emblem lingers there,And thou, dear fates, propitious smileUpon the wedded pair.
I've tried the horseshoe's weird intentAnd felt its potent joy--God bless you, Mr. President,And may it be a boy.
Words in this poem
- wedded a.
- Joined in wedlock; married.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To G. C is in the public domain. This text is taken from Hoosier Lyrics, Project Gutenberg ebook #36150; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Eugene Field, To G. C, in Hoosier Lyrics (1905), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #36150, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/field-poems/to-g-c.html, id L11589.
Form and metre
To G. C is 12 lines in 3 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.0 syllables. 42% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in common measure.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABAB stuckA · doorB · luckA · moreB
- 2 ABAB whileA · thereB · smileA · pairB
- 3 ABAB intentA · joyB · presidentA · boyB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| They say our president has stuck | 8 | ··//˘··· |
| Above his good wife's door | 6 | ······ |
| The sign provocative of luck-- | 8 | ··˘/˘˘·· |
| A horseshoe--nothing more. | 6 | ·/·/˘· |
| Be hushed, O party hates, the while | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That emblem lingers there, | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| And thou, dear fates, propitious smile | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Upon the wedded pair. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I've tried the horseshoe's weird intent | 8 | ···/··˘/ |
| And felt its potent joy-- | 6 | ···/˘· |
| God bless you, Mr. President, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And may it be a boy. | 6 | ······ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.