Analysis of The Fire At Ross's Farm
Henry Lawson 1867 (Grenfell) – 1922 (Sydney)
The squatter saw his pastures wide
Decrease, as one by one
The farmers moving to the west
Selected on his run;
Selectors took the water up
And all the black soil round;
The best grass-land the squatter had
Was spoilt by Ross's Ground.
Now many schemes to shift old Ross
Had racked the squatter's brains,
But Sandy had the stubborn blood
Of Scotland in his veins;
He held the land and fenced it in,
He cleared and ploughed the soil,
And year by year a richer crop
Repaid him for his toil.
Between the homes for many years
The devil left his tracks:
The squatter pounded Ross's stock,
And Sandy pounded Black's.
A well upon the lower run
Was filled with earth and logs,
And Black laid baits about the farm
To poison Ross's dogs.
It was, indeed, a deadly feud
Of class and creed and race;
But, yet, there was a Romeo
And a Juliet in the case;
And more than once across the flats,
Beneath the Southern Cross,
Young Robert Black was seen to ride
With pretty Jenny Ross.
One Christmas time, when months of drought
Had parched the western creeks,
The bush-fires started in the north
And travelled south for weeks.
At night along the river-side
The scene was grand and strange --
The hill-fires looked like lighted streets
Of cities in the range.
The cattle-tracks between the trees
Were like long dusky aisles,
And on a sudden breeze the fire
Would sweep along for miles;
Like sounds of distant musketry
It crackled through the brakes,
And o'er the flat of silver grass
It hissed like angry snakes.
It leapt across the flowing streams
And raced o'er pastures broad;
It climbed the trees and lit the boughs
And through the scrubs it roared.
The bees fell stifled in the smoke
Or perished in their hives,
And with the stock the kangaroos
Went flying for their lives.
The sun had set on Christmas Eve,
When, through the scrub-lands wide,
Young Robert Black came riding home
As only natives ride.
He galloped to the homestead door
And gave the first alarm:
`The fire is past the granite spur,
`And close to Ross's farm.'
`Now, father, send the men at once,
They won't be wanted here;
Poor Ross's wheat is all he has
To pull him through the year.'
`Then let it burn,' the squatter said;
`I'd like to see it done --
I'd bless the fire if it would clear
Selectors from the run.
`Go if you will,' the squatter said,
`You shall not take the men --
Go out and join your precious friends,
And don't come here again.'
`I won't come back,' young Robert cried,
And, reckless in his ire,
He sharply turned his horse's head
And galloped towards the fire.
And there, for three long weary hours,
Half-blind with smoke and heat,
Old Ross and Robert fought the flames
That neared the ripened wheat.
The farmer's hand was nerved by fears
Of danger and of loss;
And Robert fought the stubborn foe
For the love of Jenny Ross.
But serpent-like the curves and lines
Slipped past them, and between,
Until they reached the bound'ry where
The old coach-road had been.
`The track is now our only hope,
There we must stand,' cried Ross,
`For nought on earth can stop the fire
If once it gets across.'
Then came a cruel gust of wind,
And, with a fiendish rush,
The flames leapt o'er the narrow path
And lit the fence of brush.
`The crop must burn!' the farmer cried,
`We cannot save it now,'
And down upon the blackened ground
He dashed the ragged bough.
But wildly, in a rush of hope,
His heart began to beat,
For o'er the crackling fire he heard
The sound of horses' feet.
`Here's help at last,' young Robert cried,
And even as he spoke
The squatter with a dozen men
Came racing through the smoke.
Down on the ground the stockmen jumped
And bared each brawny arm,
They tore green branches from the trees
And fought for Ross's farm;
And when before the gallant band
The beaten flames gave way,
Two grimy hands in friendship joined --
And it was Christmas Day.
Scheme | ABXBXCXC DEXEFGXG HIXIBXJX XKLKXMAD XNXNAOXO PQRQRSXS XXXXTXXX XAXAXJRJ XXXUVBUB VWXWAXVR XXXXHMLD XXXFYDRM XZXZA1 C1 YXXXATWT XJPJX2 X2 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (32%) |
Metre | 01011101 011111 01010101 010111 110101 010111 01110101 111101 11011111 11011 11010101 110011 11010110 110101 01110101 011111 01011101 010111 01010101 010101 01010101 111101 01110101 110101 11010101 110101 1111010 0010001 01110101 010101 11011111 110101 11011111 110101 011010001 010111 11010101 011101 011011101 110001 01010101 01111 010101010 110111 111101 110101 010011101 111101 11010101 0110101 11010101 010111 01110001 110011 0101001 110111 01111101 110111 11011101 110101 1101011 010101 010110101 011101 11010111 111101 11011111 111101 11110101 111111 110101111 1101 11110101 111101 11011101 011101 11111101 010011 11011101 01001010 011111010 111101 11010101 110101 01011111 110011 01010101 1011101 11010101 111001 0111011 011111 011110101 111111 111111010 111101 11010111 010101 011100101 010111 01110101 110111 01010101 110101 11000111 110111 1100101011 011101 11111101 010111 01010101 110101 1101011 011101 11110101 011101 01010101 010111 11010101 011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,904 |
Words | 715 |
Sentences | 27 |
Stanzas | 15 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 120 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 199 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 47 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 08, 2023
- 3:37 min read
- 128 Views
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"The Fire At Ross's Farm" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/17993/the-fire-at-ross%27s-farm>.
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