Rousing early I rise

In the senior American literature class that I'm teaching, we've been reading portions of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's arguably most famous work, The Song of Hiawatha. Largely and loosely based Indian stories and lore, this epic poem is written in unrhymed trochaic tetrameter, an unusual meter for English-language poetry. Because my students seemed not to appreciate the metrics of the poem, I decided to have a little fun and have them compose poems of their own in trochaic tetrameter to read in class. And just for fun, I took a stab at it too.

A little more time and polishing, and I'm sure it could be better. It's a little rough on the meter and a bit stream-of-consciousness. But again, just for fun, I thought I'd share. Enjoy!

Rousing early I rise; daybreak

meets me, bleary-vised bumbler,

lacking coffee, caffeine, needed

jolt of power. Goats with gruff voice

greet me, ears of mine assaulting

bah-ing, bleating, strongly urging

me to feed them, hunger of theirs

'suaging, bellies of theirs filling.

Slow are my movements, still slower

do I rise, but faster comes their

pleading. More insistant, more and

more incessant, pressing 'gainst my

will and wits, it thrusts me up—and

out of doors—and into the morning

sunshine. What am I to do now?

Can one sleep when waked from slumber?

Can one slumber when now roused from sleep?

No—indeed not! For one must rise,

hap'ly wakened, hapless driven,

simple feed-source—that's all I must be.

Morning, then, I greet thee—yes, and

goats, I feed thee. Essence actuated,

yes, and so I am, and ev'n so are you.