A Song, Inscribed to the Fremont Clubs
BENEATH thy skies, November!Thy skies of cloud and rain,Around our blazing camp-firesWe close our ranks again.Then sound again the bugles,Call the muster-roll anew;If months have well-nigh won the field,What may not four years do?
For God be praised! New EnglandTakes once more her ancient place;Again the Pilgrim's bannerLeads the vanguard of the race.Then sound again the bugles, etc.
Along the lordly Hudson,A shout of triumph breaks;The Empire State is speaking,From the ocean to the lakes.Then sound again the bugles, etc.
The Northern hills are blazing,The Northern skies are bright;And the fair young West is turningHer forehead to the light!Then sound again the bugles, etc.
Push every outpost nearer,Press hard the hostile towers!Another Balaklava,And the Malakoff is ours!Then sound again the bugles,Call the muster-roll anew;If months have well-nigh won the field,What may not four years do?
Words in this poem
- vanguard n.
- The troops who march in front of an army; the advance guard; the van. [For vantguard, avantguard, F. avant-garde; avant before, fore + garde guard. See Avant, Ab-,Ante-, and Guard, and cf. Advance, Vamp, Van of an army, Vaward.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Song, Inscribed to the Fremont Clubs is in the public domain. This text is taken from Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform, Complete Volume III of The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Project Gutenberg ebook #9580; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Greenleaf Whittier, A Song, Inscribed to the Fremont Clubs, in Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform (1865), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9580, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/whittier-anti-slavery/a-song-inscribed-to-the-fremont-clubs.html, id L24903.
Form and metre
A Song, Inscribed to the Fremont Clubs is 31 lines in 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
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 -A-A-B-B november · rainA · fires · againA · bugles · anewB · field · doB
- 2 -A-A- england · placeA · banner · raceA · etc
- 3 -A-A- hudson · breaksA · speaking · lakesA · etc
- 4 -A-A- blazing · brightA · turning · lightA · etc
- 5 -A-A-B-B nearer · towersA · balaklava · oursA · bugles · anewB · field · doB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| BENEATH thy skies, November! | 7 | ····˘/˘ |
| Thy skies of cloud and rain, | 6 | ······ |
| Around our blazing camp-fires | 9 | ··/˘/˘·/˘ |
| We close our ranks again. | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Then sound again the bugles, | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| Call the muster-roll anew; | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| If months have well-nigh won the field, | 8 | ········ |
| What may not four years do? | 6 | ······ |
| For God be praised! New England | 8 | ····˘·/˘ |
| Takes once more her ancient place; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Again the Pilgrim's banner | 7 | ˘/·/˘/˘ |
| Leads the vanguard of the race. | 7 | ··/···· |
| Then sound again the bugles, etc. | 10 | ··˘/·/˘·/˘ |
| Along the lordly Hudson, | 7 | ˘/·/˘/˘ |
| A shout of triumph breaks; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The Empire State is speaking, | 8 | ·/˘˘··/˘ |
| From the ocean to the lakes. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Then sound again the bugles, etc. | 10 | ··˘/·/˘·/˘ |
| The Northern hills are blazing, | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| The Northern skies are bright; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And the fair young West is turning | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Her forehead to the light! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Then sound again the bugles, etc. | 10 | ··˘/·/˘·/˘ |
| Push every outpost nearer, | 8 | ·/˘˘/·/˘ |
| Press hard the hostile towers! | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Another Balaklava, | 7 | ˘/˘···· |
| And the Malakoff is ours! | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Then sound again the bugles, | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| Call the muster-roll anew; | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| If months have well-nigh won the field, | 8 | ········ |
| What may not four years do? | 6 | ······ |
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