The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
There's a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin,And it roamed the velvet valley till to-day;But I tracked it by the river, and I trailed it in the cover,And I killed it on the mountain miles away.Now I've had my lazy supper, and the level sun is gleamingOn the water where the silver salmon play;And I light my little corn-cob, and I linger softly dreaming,In the twilight, of a land that's far away.
Far away, so faint and far, is flaming London, fevered Paris,That I fancy I have gained another star;Far away the din and hurry, far away the sin and worry,Far away--God knows they cannot be too far.Gilded galley-slaves of Mammon--how my purse-proud brothers taunt me!I might have been as well-to-do as theyHad I clutched like them my chances, learned their wisdom, crushedmy fancies,Starved my soul and gone to business every day.
Well, the cherry bends with blossom, and the vivid grass is springing,And the star-like lily nestles in the green;And the frogs their joys are singing, and my heart in tune is ringing,And it doesn't matter what I might have been,While above the scented pine-gloom, piling heights of golden glory,The sun-god paints his canvas in the west;I can couch me deep in clover, I can listen to the storyOf the lazy, lapping water--it is best.While the trout leaps in the river, and the blue grouse thrills thecover,And the frozen snow betrays the panther's track,And the robin greets the dayspring with the rapture of a lover,I am happy, and I'll nevermore go back.For I know I'd just be longing for the little old log cabin,With the morning-glory clinging to the door,Till I loathed the city places, cursed the care on all the faces,Turned my back on lazar London evermore.
So send me far from Lombard Street, and write me down a failure;Put a little in my purse and leave me free.Say: "He turned from Fortune's offering to follow up a pale lure,He is one of us no longer--let him be."I am one of you no longer: by the trails my feet have broken,The dizzy peaks I've scaled, the camp-fire's glow,By the lonely seas I've sailed in--yea, the final word is spoken,I am signed and sealed to nature. Be it so.
Words in this poem
- dayspring n.
- The beginning of the day, or first appearance of light; the dawn; hence, the beginning.
- nevermore adv.
- Never again; at no time hereafter. Testament of Love. Tyndale.
- cursed a.
- Deserving a curse; execrable; hateful; detestable; abominable.
- lazar n.
- A person infected with a filthy or pestilential disease; a leper. [OF. lazare, fr. Lazarus the beggar. Luke xvi. 20.]
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
- lombard a.
- Of or pertaining to Lombardy, or the inhabitants of Lombardy.
- scaled a.
- Covered with scales, or scalelike structures; -- said of a fish, a reptile, a moth, etc.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Rhyme of the Remittance Man is in the public domain. This text is taken from Songs of a Sourdough, Project Gutenberg ebook #25546; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert W. Service, The Rhyme of the Remittance Man, in Songs of a Sourdough (1907), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #25546, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/service-sourdough/the-rhyme-of-the-remittance-man.html, id L08120.
Form and metre
The Rhyme of the Remittance Man is 42 lines in 4 stanzas. 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 12.7 syllables. 18 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 12% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 -A-ABABA cabin · dayA · cover · awayA · gleamingB · playA · dreamingB · awayA
- 2 -A-A-B--B paris · starA · worry · farA · me · theyB · crushed · fancies · dayB
- 3 A-A-BCBC-DEDE-F-F springingA · green · ringingA · been · gloryB · westC · storyB · bestC · the · coverD · trackE · loverD · backE · cabin · doorF · faces · evermoreF
- 4 -A-ABCBC failure · freeA · lure · beA · brokenB · glowC · spokenB · soC
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. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| There's a four-pronged buck a-swinging in the shadow of my cabin, | 16 | ······/˘··/···/˘ |
| And it roamed the velvet valley till to-day; | 11 | ····/˘/˘··· |
| But I tracked it by the river, and I trailed it in the cover, | 16 | ······/˘······/˘ |
| And I killed it on the mountain miles away. | 11 | ······/˘·˘/ |
| Now I've had my lazy supper, and the level sun is gleaming | 16 | ····/˘/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| On the water where the silver salmon play; | 11 | ··/˘··/˘/˘· |
| And I light my little corn-cob, and I linger softly dreaming, | 16 | ····/˘····/˘/˘/˘ |
| In the twilight, of a land that's far away. | 11 | ··/······˘/ |
| Far away, so faint and far, is flaming London, fevered Paris, | 16 | ·˘/·····/˘/˘/˘/˘ |
| That I fancy I have gained another star; | 11 | ··/˘···˘/˘· |
| Far away the din and hurry, far away the sin and worry, | 16 | ·˘/···/˘·˘/···/˘ |
| Far away--God knows they cannot be too far. | 11 | ·˘/···/˘··· |
| Gilded galley-slaves of Mammon--how my purse-proud brothers taunt me! | 16 | /˘/˘··/˘····/˘·· |
| I might have been as well-to-do as they | 10 | ·········· |
| Had I clutched like them my chances, learned their wisdom, crushed | 13 | ······/˘··/˘· |
| my fancies, | 3 | ·/˘ |
| Starved my soul and gone to business every day. | 11 | ······/˘/˘· |
| Well, the cherry bends with blossom, and the vivid grass is springing, | 16 | ··/˘··/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| And the star-like lily nestles in the green; | 11 | ····/˘/˘··· |
| And the frogs their joys are singing, and my heart in tune is ringing, | 16 | ······/˘······/˘ |
| And it doesn't matter what I might have been, | 11 | ··/˘/˘····· |
| While above the scented pine-gloom, piling heights of golden glory, | 16 | ····/˘··/˘··/˘/˘ |
| The sun-god paints his canvas in the west; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| I can couch me deep in clover, I can listen to the story | 16 | ······/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Of the lazy, lapping water--it is best. | 11 | ··/˘/˘/˘··· |
| While the trout leaps in the river, and the blue grouse thrills the | 14 | ······/˘······ |
| cover, | 2 | /˘ |
| And the frozen snow betrays the panther's track, | 11 | ··/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| And the robin greets the dayspring with the rapture of a lover, | 16 | ··/˘··/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| I am happy, and I'll nevermore go back. | 11 | ··/˘··/˘··· |
| For I know I'd just be longing for the little old log cabin, | 16 | ······/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| With the morning-glory clinging to the door, | 11 | ··/˘/˘/˘··· |
| Till I loathed the city places, cursed the care on all the faces, | 16 | ····/˘/˘······/˘ |
| Turned my back on lazar London evermore. | 11 | ····/˘/˘/˘· |
| So send me far from Lombard Street, and write me down a failure; | 15 | ·····/˘······/˘ |
| Put a little in my purse and leave me free. | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| Say: "He turned from Fortune's offering to follow up a pale lure, | 15 | ····/˘/˘·/˘···· |
| He is one of us no longer--let him be." | 11 | ······/˘··· |
| I am one of you no longer: by the trails my feet have broken, | 16 | ······/˘······/˘ |
| The dizzy peaks I've scaled, the camp-fire's glow, | 10 | ·/˘·····/· |
| By the lonely seas I've sailed in--yea, the final word is spoken, | 16 | ··/˘······/˘··/˘ |
| I am signed and sealed to nature. Be it so. | 11 | ······/˘··· |
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.