"Good-By—God Bless You!"
I like the Anglo-Saxon speechWith its direct revealings;It takes a hold, and seems to reach'Way down into your feelings;That some folk deem it rude, I know,And therefore they abuse it;But I have never found it so,--Before all else I choose it.I don't object that men should airThe Gallic they have paid for,With "Au revoir," "Adieu, ma chere,"For that's what French was made for.But when a crony takes your handAt parting, to address you,He drops all foreign lingo andHe says, "Good-by--God bless you!"
This seems to me a sacred phrase,With reverence impassioned,--A thing come down from righteous days,Quaintly but nobly fashioned;It well becomes an honest face,A voice that's round and cheerful;It stays the sturdy in his place,And soothes the weak and fearful.Into the porches of the earsIt steals with subtle unction,And in your heart of hearts appearsTo work its gracious function;And all day long with pleasing songIt lingers to caress you,--I'm sure no human heart goes wrongThat's told "Good-by--God bless you!"
I love the words,--perhaps because,When I was leaving Mother,Standing at last in solemn pauseWe looked at one another,And I--I saw in Mother's eyesThe love she could not tell me,--A love eternal as the skies,Whatever fate befell me;She put her arms about my neckAnd soothed the pain of leaving,And though her heart was like to break,She spoke no word of grieving;She let no tear bedim her eye,For fear that might distress me,But, kissing me, she said good-by,And asked our God to bless me.
Words in this poem
- folk n.
- In Anglo-Saxon times, the people of a group of townships or villages; a community; a tribe. [AS. folc; akin to D. volk, OS. & OHG. folk, G. volk, Icel. f, Sw. & Dan. folk, Lith. pulkas crowd, and perh. to E. follow.]
- deem v. t.
- To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
- chere n.
- The face; the countenance or its expression. [OE. chere face, welcome, cheer, OF. chiere, F. chère, fr. LL. cara face, Gr. , L. cerebrum brain, G. hirn, and E. cranium.]
- lingo n.
- Language; speech; dialect. [L. lingua tongue, language. See Lingual.]
- impassioned p. p.
- Actuated or characterized by passion or zeal; showing warmth of feeling; ardent; animated; excited; as, an impassioned orator or discourse.
- quaintly adv.
- In a quaint manner.
- nobly adv.
- Of noble extraction; as, nobly born or descended.
- unction n.
- The act of anointing, smearing, or rubbing with an unguent, oil, or ointment, especially for medical purposes, or as a symbol of consecration; as, mercurial unction. [OE. unccioun, uncioun, OF. oncion, onction, F. onction, fr. L. unctio, fr. ungere, unctum, to anoint. See Unguent.]
- caress n.
- An act of endearment; any act or expression of affection; an embracing, or touching, with tenderness. [F. caresse, It. carezza, LL. caritia dearness, fr. L. carus dear. See Charity.]
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- bedim v. t.
- To make dim; to obscure or darken.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
"Good-By—God Bless You!" is in the public domain. This text is taken from A Little Book of Western Verse, Project Gutenberg ebook #9606; 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, "Good-By—God Bless You!", in A Little Book of Western Verse (1889), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9606, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/field-western-verse/good-by-god-bless-you.html, id L24662.
Form and metre
"Good-By—God Bless You!" is 48 lines in 3 stanzas of 16 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCDEFEFGHGH, complete in 2 of its 3 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
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 ABABCDCDEFEFGHGH speechA · revealingsB · reachA · feelingsB · knowC · itD · soC · itD · airE · forF · chereE · forF · handG · youH · andG · youH
- 2 ABABCDCDEFEFGHGH phraseA · impassionedB · daysA · fashionedB · faceC · cheerfulD · placeC · fearfulD · earsE · unctionF · appearsE · functionF · songG · youH · wrongG · youH
- 3 ABABCDCD-E-EFDFD becauseA · motherB · pauseA · anotherB · eyesC · meD · skiesC · meD · neck · leavingE · break · grievingE · eyeF · meD · byF · meD
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 iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I like the Anglo-Saxon speech | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| With its direct revealings; | 7 | ··˘/˘/˘ |
| It takes a hold, and seems to reach | 8 | ········ |
| 'Way down into your feelings; | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| That some folk deem it rude, I know, | 8 | ········ |
| And therefore they abuse it; | 7 | ····˘/· |
| But I have never found it so,-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Before all else I choose it. | 7 | ······· |
| I don't object that men should air | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| The Gallic they have paid for, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| With "Au revoir," "Adieu, ma chere," | 8 | ··˘/˘/·· |
| For that's what French was made for. | 7 | ······· |
| But when a crony takes your hand | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| At parting, to address you, | 7 | ·/˘·˘/· |
| He drops all foreign lingo and | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| He says, "Good-by--God bless you!" | 7 | ······· |
| This seems to me a sacred phrase, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| With reverence impassioned,-- | 8 | ·/˘˘˘/˘˘ |
| A thing come down from righteous days, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Quaintly but nobly fashioned; | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘˘ |
| It well becomes an honest face, | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| A voice that's round and cheerful; | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| It stays the sturdy in his place, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And soothes the weak and fearful. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Into the porches of the ears | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| It steals with subtle unction, | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And in your heart of hearts appears | 8 | ······˘/ |
| To work its gracious function; | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And all day long with pleasing song | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| It lingers to caress you,-- | 7 | ·/˘·˘/· |
| I'm sure no human heart goes wrong | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That's told "Good-by--God bless you!" | 7 | ······· |
| I love the words,--perhaps because, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| When I was leaving Mother, | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Standing at last in solemn pause | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| We looked at one another, | 8 | ··˘··˘/˘ |
| And I--I saw in Mother's eyes | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The love she could not tell me,-- | 7 | ······· |
| A love eternal as the skies, | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Whatever fate befell me; | 7 | ·/˘·˘/· |
| She put her arms about my neck | 8 | ········ |
| And soothed the pain of leaving, | 8 | ··˘···/˘ |
| And though her heart was like to break, | 8 | ········ |
| She spoke no word of grieving; | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| She let no tear bedim her eye, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| For fear that might distress me, | 7 | ····˘/· |
| But, kissing me, she said good-by, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And asked our God to bless me. | 8 | ··/˘···· |
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