Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ODE; FOR THE CELEBRATION OF ... COCHITUATE WATER INTO BOSTON, by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: My name is water: I have sped Last Line: That never will make slaves of you. Subject(s): Boston; Water | ||||||||
MY name is Water: I have sped Through strange, dark ways, untried before, By pure desire of friendship led, Cochituate's ambassador; He sends four royal gifts by me: Long life, health, peace, and purity. I'm Ceres' cup-bearer; I pour, For flowers and fruits and all their kin, Her crystal vintage, from of yore Stored in old Earth's selectest bin, Flora's Falernian ripe, since God The wine-press of the deluge trod. In that far isle whence, iron-willed, The New World's sires their bark unmoored, The fairies' acorn-cups I filled Upon the toadstool's silver board, And, 'neath Herne's oak, for Shakespeare's sight, Strewed moss and grass with diamonds bright. No fairies in the Mayflower came, And, lightsome as I sparkle here, For Mother Bay State, busy dame, I've toiled and drudged this many a year, Throbbed in her engines' iron veins, Twirled myriad spindles for her gains. I, too, can weave: the warp I set Through which the sun his shuttle throws, And, bright as Noah saw it, yet For you the arching rainbow glows, A sight in Paradise denied To unfallen Adam and his bride. When Winter held me in his grip, You seized and sent me o'er the wave, Ungrateful! in a prison-ship; But I forgive, not long a slave, For, soon as summer south-winds blew, Homeward I fled, disguised as dew. For countless services I'm fit, Of use, of pleasure, and of gain, But lightly from all bonds I flit, Nor lose my mirth, nor feel a stain; From mill and wash-tub I escape, And take in heaven my proper shape. So, free myself, to-day, elate I come from far o'er hill and mead, And here, Cochituate's envoy, wait To be your blithesome Ganymede, And brim your cups with nectar true That never will make slaves of you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STARS WHICH SEE, STARS WHICH DO NOT SEE by MARVIN BELL WASHING OUR HANDS OF THE REST OF AMERICA by MARVIN BELL WATER, WINTER, FIRE by MARVIN BELL AFTER THE BURIAL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |
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