Analysis of The Sorrows of a Simple Bard
Henry Lawson 1867 (Grenfell) – 1922 (Sydney)
WHEN I tell a tale of virtue and of injured innocence,
Then my publishers and lawyers are the densest of the dense:
With the blank face of an image and the nod of keep-it-dark
And a wink of mighty meaning at their confidential clerk.
(When, Oh! tell me when shall poets cease to be misunderstood?
When, Oh! When? shall people reckon rhymers can be any good?
Do their work and pay their debts and drink their pint of beer, and then,
Look in woman’s eyes and leave them, just like ordinary men?)
“Is there literary friendship ’twix the sexes? don’t you think?”
And they wink their idiotic and exasperating wink.
“Can’t we kiss a clever woman without wanting any more?”
And their clock-work nod is only more decided than before.
But if I should hint that there’s a little woman somewhere, say,
Then the public and the law are interested straight away,
The impassive confidential gets a bright and cheerful glance—
Things are straightway on a footing that may lead to an advance.
Both are married and respected and they both are rising higher:
One’s church warden, one’s a deacon in a fashionable choir.
And the clerks have both unblemished private characters to show—
What do they know about woman? That’s what I should like to know.
(Flash of dark eyes in the moonlight, in the scrub or far afield,
Blouse-sleeves back from white arms clinging—clinging while she will not yield,
Or the fair head on your shoulder and the grey eyes moist and mild—
Weary of the strife with passion, yielding like a tired child.)
There’s my aunt; the dear old lady hints about “experience”
When I go to her for comfort with my injured innocence.
She screws up a wise expression, while she listens, for my pains—
Isn’t it an awful pity women haven’t any brains?
Now I’m serious and angry, for it isn’t any joke—
Poets have been damned for ages by such evil-minded folk.
Must we all be public blackguards? Can’t a rhymer be a man,
Spite of Byron’s silly mistress—Burns’s gawky Mary Ann?
As tame bards they will not have us, and I don’t know what they want,
There’s my publisher and lawyer, my admirers and my aunt.
Do they want a rake and a spendthrift? Look out! Tradesman trusting me!
Look out! Husbands! Fathers! Brothers! I’ll be wicked as can be!
There now.
Scheme | AXXX BBCC DDEE FFGG HHII JJKK AALL MMNN XXOOX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 111011100110100 111000101010101 101111100011111 00111010110101 11111110111001 11111010111101 111011101111101 1011011111001 11100101010111 0111010001001 111010100110101 01111110110101 11111110101011 10100011100101 00100101010101 11110101111101 1110001001111010 1110101000100010 001110101010011 111101101111111 11110010011101 111111101011111 101111100011101 101011101010101 111011101010100 111101101110100 111010101110111 1111010101101 11100010111101 101111101110101 11111011010101 1111010110101 111111110111111 111000101010011 11101001111101 111010101110111 11 |
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 2,275 |
Words | 405 |
Sentences | 33 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5 |
Lines Amount | 37 |
Letters per line (avg) | 47 |
Words per line (avg) | 11 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 194 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 44 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:01 min read
- 30 Views
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"The Sorrows of a Simple Bard" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/18104/the-sorrows-of-a-simple-bard>.
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