Analysis of Black Swans
Andrew Barton Paterson 1864 (Orange, New South Wales) – 1941 (Sydney, New South Wales)
As I lie at rest on a patch of clover
In the Western Park when the day is done.
I watch as the wild black swans fly over
With their phalanx turned to the sinking sun;
And I hear the clang of their leader crying
To a lagging mate in the rearward flying,
And they fade away in the darkness dying,
Where the stars are mustering one by one.
O ye wild black swans, 'twere a world of wonder
For a while to join in your westward flight,
With the stars above and the dim earth under,
Trough the cooling air of the glorious night.
As we swept along on our pinions winging,
We should catch the chime of a church-bell ringing,
Or the distant note of a torrent singing,
Or the far-off flash of a station light.
From the northern lakes with the reeds and rushes,
Where the hills are clothed with a purple haze,
Where the bell-birds chime and the songs of thrushes
Make music sweet in the jungle maze,
They will hold their course to the westward ever,
Till they reach the banks of the old grey river,
Where the waters wash, and the reed-beds quiver
In the burning heat of the summer days.
O ye strange wild birds, will ye bear a greeting
To the folk that live in that western land?
Then for every sweep of your pinions beating
Ye shall bear a wish to the sunburnt band,
To the stalwart men who are stoutly fighting
With the heat and drought and the dust-storm smiting,
Yet whose life somehow has a strong inviting,
When once to the work they have put their hand.
Facing it yet! O my friend stout-hearted,
What does it matter for rain or shine,
For the hopes deferred and the grain departed?
Nothing could conquer that heart of thine.
And thy health and strength are beyond confessing
As the only joys that are worth possessing.
May the days to come be as rich in blessing
As the days we spent in the auld lang syne.
I would fain go back to the old grey river,
To the old bush days when our hearts were light;
But, alas! those days they have fled for ever,
They are like the swans that have swept from sight.
And I know full well that the strangers' faces
Would meet us now is our dearest places;
For our day is dead and has left no traces
But the thoughts that live in my mind to-night.
There are folk long dead, and our hearts would sicken--
We should grieve for them with a bitter pain;
If the past could live and the dead could quicken,
We then might turn to that life again.
But on lonely nights we should hear them calling,
We should hear their steps on the pathways falling,
We should loathe the life with a hate appalling
In our lonely rides by the ridge and plain
In the silent park a scent of clover,
And the distant roar of the town is dead,
And I hear once more, as the swans fly over,
Their far-off clamour from overhead.
They are flying west, by their instinct guided,
And for man likewise is his rate decided,
And griefs apportioned and joys divided
By a mightly power with a purpose dread.
Scheme | ABABCCCBADADCCCD EFEFAAAF CGCGCCCG HIHICCCB ADADEEED BJBXCCCJ AKAKHXHK |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111101110 0010110111 1110111110 1110110101 01101111010 1010100110 01101001010 1011100111 11111101110 1011101101 10101001110 10101101001 11101110110 11101101110 10101101010 1011110101 10101101010 1011110101 10111001110 110100101 11111101010 11101101110 10101001110 0010110101 11111111010 1011101101 11100111110 111011011 10101111010 1010100111 1111101010 1110111111 1011111110 111101111 10101001010 101101111 01101101010 10101111010 10111111010 1011100111 11111101110 10111110101 10111111110 1110111111 01111101010 11111101010 110111011110 1011101111 111110101110 1111110101 10111001110 111111101 11101111110 1111110110 11101101010 01010110101 0010101110 0010110111 01111101110 11111101 11101111010 011111110 0101001010 1011010101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,899 |
Words | 556 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 16, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 64 |
Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 324 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 79 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:46 min read
- 145 Views
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"Black Swans" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/2497/black-swans>.
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