The
Ballad of William Sycamore
by Stephen Vincent Benet
interpreted by Samantha Marcum
My
father, he was a mountaineer,
His
fist was a knotty hammer;
He
was quick on his feet as a running deer,
And
he spoke with a Yankee stammer.
My
mother, she was meery and brave,
And
so she came to her labor,
With
a tall green fir for her doctor grave
And
a stream for her comforting neighbor.
And
some are wrapped in the linen fine,
And
some like a godling's scion;
But
I was cradled on twigs of pine
In
the skin of a mountain lion.
And
some remember a white, starched lap
And
a ewer with silver handles;
But
I remember a coonskin cap
And
the smell of bayberry candles.
The
cabin logs, with the bark still rough,
And
my mother who laughed at trifles,
And
the tall, lank visitors, brown as snuff,
With
their long, straight squirrel-rifles.
I
can hear them dance, like a foggy song,
Through
the deepest one of my slumbers,
The
fiddle squeaking the boots along
And
my father calling the numbers.
The
quick feet shaking the puncheon-floor,
And
the fiddle squealing and squealing,
Till
the dried herbs rattled above the door
And
the dust went up to the ceiling.
There
are children lucky from dawn till dusk,
But
never a child so lucky!
For
I cut my teeth on "Money Musk"
In
the Bloody Ground of Kentucky!
When
I grew tall as the Indian corn,
My
father had a little to lend me,
But
he gave me his great, old powder-horn
And
his woodsman's skill befriend me.
With
a leather shirt to cover my back,
And
a redskin nose to unravel
Each
forest sign, carried my pack
As
far as scout could travel.
Till
I lost my boyhood and found my wife,
A
girl like a Salem clipper!
A
woman straight as a hunting-knife
With
eyes as bright as the Dipper!
We
cleared our camp where the buffalo feed,
Unheard-of
streams were our flagons;
And
I sowed my sons like the apple-seed
On
the trail of the Western wagons.
They
were right, tight boys, never sulky or slow,
A
fruitful, a goodly muster.
The
eldest died at Alamo.
The
youngest fell with Custer.
The
letter that told it burned my hand.
Yet
we smiled and said, "So be it!"
But
I could not live when they fenced the land,
For
it broke my heart to see it.
I
saddled a red, unbroken colt
And
rode him into the day there;
And
he threw me down like a thunderbolt
And
rolled on me as I lay there.
The
hunter's whistle hummed in my ear
As
the city-men tried to move me,
And
I died in my boots like a pioneer
With
the whole wide sky above me.
Now
I lie in the heart of the fat, black soil,
Like
the seed of a prarie-thistle;
It
has washed my bones with honey and oil
And
picked them clean as a whistle.
And
my youth returns, like the rains of Spring,
And
my sons, like the wild-geese flying;
And
I lie and hear the meadow-lark sing
And
have much content in my dying.
Go
play with the towns you have built of blocks,
The
towns where you would have bound me!
I
sleep in my earth like a tired fox,
And
my buffalo have found me.
Poet: Stephen Vincent Benét (1898-1943).
Benét lived in Pennsylvania, where his father was in the military.
When the boy was young he and his father would spend hours reading about
history. He developed a love for the American frontier life. After graduating
from Yale in 1919, he published a book of poems relating to this subject
matter (Including the "Ballad of William Sycamore"). He also
wrote a few novels and two operas (including the Headless Horseman). Benét
is known for his talent of bringing historical events vividly to life.
He won the 1944 Pulitzer Prize for his poetry.
Vocabulary: A godling's scion - Descendant
or child of a god
Ewer
- Large watering pitcher
Salem
clipper - Sailing ship from Salem, Mass.; has tall sails and is
quick
Puncheon-floor
- Floor made of heavy, broad pieces of timber
Type of poem: Narrative
Speaker: A dead man lying in the Earth remembering
his life; the Daniel Boone type who spent his entire life in the untamed
wilderness
Audience: General audience, The speaker seems to be speaking
to a group of young children, such as his grandchildren.
Tone: The Tone is lively and upbeat, as if
the speaker is telling a folk tale. Towards the end, the tone changes.
The speaker seems more concerned how people are fencing in the land, and
happy that he is not alive to see it.
Meaning: This poem is about a man's life on the wild frontier.
He talks about the rugged life he and his family led. "I was cradled
on twigs of pine in the skin of a mountain lion," (Benét 11-12).
This quotation shows the kind of life that he lived. When he grew up he
had a family just like the one he grew up in. When he got older, things
changed and ruined his life of tranquillity with nature. "But I could
not live when they fenced the land, for it broke my heart to see it,"
(Benét 55-56). This quotation shows how much he hated having the
land fenced in. It is what eventually killed him.
Structure of poem: - Traditional poem
-
Stanzas 4 lines each
-
Strong "song like" beat
-
Rhyme Scheme: a b a b, c d c d, etc.
-
Definite Rhythm
Examples of poetic techniques used in the poem:
"The
eldest died at the Alamo. The youngest fell with Custer," (Benét
51-52). |
Historical
illusion |
"I
sowed my sons like the apple-seed," (Benét 47).
|
Simile
|
"With
eyes bright as the Dipper," (Benét 44).
|
Simile
|
"His
fist was a knotty hammer," (Benét 2).
|
Metaphor |
"With
a tall green fir for her doctor grave and a stream for her comforting
neighbor," (Benét 7-8).
|
Personification |
Connection between the poem and the poet's life and/or
times: This poem does not seem to have a connection with the
poet's own real life experiences. Rather, it deals with one of his favorite
subjects, life on the American frontier. He was always reading and learning
about this lifestyle, so it is only natural for him to write about it.
Most memorable quote from the poem: "And I sowed my sons
like the apple-seed on the trail of the Western wagons," (Benét
47-48).
© Smelli Notes 2001
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