Analysis of 97": The Fast Mail
Where the rails converge to the station yard
She stands one moment, breathing hard,
And then, with a snort and a clang of steel,
She settles her strength to the stubborn wheel,
And out, through the tracks that lead astray,
Cautiously, slowly she picks her way,
And gathers her muscle and guards her nerve,
When she swings her nose to the westward curve,
And takes the grade, which slopes to the sky,
With a bound of speed and a conquering cry.
The hazy horizon is all she sees,
Nor cares for the meadows, stirred with bees,
Nor the long, straight stretches of silent land,
Nor the ploughman, that shades his eye with his hand,
Nor the cots and hamlets that know no more
Than a shriek and a flash and a flying roar;
But, bearing her tidings, she trembles and throbs,
And laughs in her throat, and quivers and sobs;
And the fire in her heart is a red core of heat,
That drives like a passion through forest and street,
Till she sees the ships in their harbor at rest,
And sniffs at the trail to the end of her quest.
If I were the driver who handles her reins,
Up hill and down hill and over the plains,
To watch the slow mountains give back in the west,
To know the new reaches that wait every crest,
To hold, when she swerves, with a confident clutch,
And feel how she shivers and springs to the touch,
With the snow on her back and the sun in her face,
And nothing but time as a quarry to chase,
I should grip hard my teeth, and look where she led,
And brace myself stooping, and give her her head,
And urge her, and soothe her, and serve all her need,
And exult in the thunder and thrill of her speed.
Scheme | AA BB CC DD EE FF GG HH FX II JJ KK JJ LL MM NN OO |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1010110101 11110101 0110100111 1100110101 011011101 100101101 0100100101 1110110101 010111101 10111001001 0100101111 11101111 1011101101 1011111111 1010101111 10100100101 1100101101 010010101 0010001101111 11101011001 11101011011 01101101101 11001011001 1101101001 11011011001 110110111001 11111101001 01111001101 101101001001 01011101011 11111101111 0111001001 01001001101 001001001101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,618 |
Words | 326 |
Sentences | 3 |
Stanzas | 17 |
Stanza Lengths | 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2 |
Lines Amount | 34 |
Letters per line (avg) | 37 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 73 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 18 |
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Submitted on August 03, 2020
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:37 min read
- 4 Views
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"97": The Fast Mail" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 11 Mar. 2025. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/55843/97%22%3A--the-fast-mail>.
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