Analysis of Longevity
Robert William Service 1874 – 1958
I watched one day a parrot grey - 'twas in a barber shop.
"Cuckold!" he cried, until I sighed: "You feathered devil, stop!"
Then balefully he looked at me, and slid along his perch,
With sneering eye that seemed to pry me very soul to search.
So fierce, so bold, so grim, so cold, so agate was his stare:
And then that bird I thought I heard this sentiment declare: -
"As it appears, a hundred years a parrot may survive,
When you are gone I'll sit upon this perch and be alive.
In this same spot I'll drop my crot, and crack my sunflower seeds,
And cackle loud when in a shroud you rot beneath the weeds.
I'll carry on when carrion you lie beneath the yew;
With claw and beak my grub I'll seek when grubs are seeking you."
"Foul fowl! said I, "don't prophesy, I'll jolly well contrive
That when I rot in bone-yard lot you cease to be alive."
So I bespoke that barber bloke: "Joe, here's a five pound note.
It's crisp and new, and yours if you will slice that parrot's throat."
"In part," says he, "I must agree, for poor I be in pelf,
With right good will I'll take your bill, but - cut his throat yourself."
So it occurred I took that bird to my ancestral hall,
And there he sat and sniggered at the portraits on the wall.
I sought to cut his wind-pipe but he gave me such a peck,
So cross was I, I swore I'd try to wring his blasted neck;
When shrill he cried: "It's parrotcide what you propose to do;
For every time you make a rhyme you're just a parrot too."
Said I: "It's true. I bow to you. Poor parrots are we all."
And now I sense with reverence the wisdom of his poll.
For every time I want a rhyme he seems to find the word;
In any doubt he helps me out - a most amazing bird.
This line that lies before your eyes he helped me to indite;
I sling the ink but often think it's he who ought to write.
It's he who should in mystic mood concoct poetic screeds,
And I who ought to drop my crot and crackle sunflower seeds.
A parrot nears a hundred years (or so the legend goes),
So were I he this century I might see to its close.
Then I might swing within my ring while revolutions roar,
And watch a world to ruin hurled - and find it all a bore.
As upside-down I cling and clown, I might with parrot eyes
Blink blandly when excited men are moulding Paradise.
New Christs might die, while grimly I would croak and carry on,
Till gnarled and old I should behold the year TWO THOUSAND dawn.
But what a fate! How I should hate upon my perch to sit,
And nothing do to make anew a world for angels fit.
No, better far, though feeble are my lyric notes and flat,
Be dead and done than anyone who lives a life like that.
Though critic-scarred a humble bard I feel I'd rather be,
Than flap and flit and shriek and spit through all a century.
So feathered friend, until the end you may divide my den,
And make a mess, which (more or less) I clean up now and then.
But I prefer the doom to share of dead and gone compeers,
Than parrot be, and live to see ten times a hundred years.
Scheme | AABBCC DDEEFF DDGGDX HHIIFF HXJJKKEE XXLLXXXX MMNNOO PPEX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110101100101 1110111110101 111111010111 11011111110111 11111111110111 01111111110001 11010101010101 11111101110101 01111111011101 01011001110101 11011100110101 11011111111101 111111110101 11110111111101 1111101110111 1101011111111 01111101111101 11111111111101 11011111110101 0111011010101 11111111111101 11111111111101 111111110111 110011101110101 11111111110111 01111100010111 110011101111101 01011111010101 11110111111101 11011101111111 11110101010101 01111111010101 01010101110101 10111100111111 1111011110101 01011101011101 11111101111101 1101010111010 11111101110101 11011101011101 11011111011111 01011101011101 11011101110101 1101110110111 11010101111101 11010101110100 11010101110111 01011111111101 1101011111011 11010111110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 2,936 |
Words | 602 |
Sentences | 32 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 6, 4 |
Lines Amount | 50 |
Letters per line (avg) | 45 |
Words per line (avg) | 12 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 282 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 74 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:03 min read
- 113 Views
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"Longevity" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32223/longevity>.
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