Analysis of A Song Of Trafalgar
Edith Nesbit 1858 (Kennington, Surrey ) – 1924 (New Romney, Kent)
LIKE an angry sun, like a splendid star,
War gleams down the long years' track;
They strain at the leash, the dogs of war,
And who shall hold them back?
'Let loose the pack: we are English bred,
We will meet them full and fair
With the flag of England over our head,
And his hand to keep it there!'
So spake our fathers. Our flag, unfurled,
Blew brave to the north and south;
An iron answer we gave the world,
For we spoke by the cannon's mouth.
But he who taught us the word to say
Grew dumb as his Victory sang,
And England mourned on her triumph day,
And wept while her joy-bells rang.
Long hour by hour, and long day by day,
The swift years crept apace,
The patient, the coral-insect way,
To cover the dear dead face.
O foolish rabble of envious years,
Who wist not the dead must rise,
His name is music still in our ears,
His face a light to our eyes!
Bring hither your laurels, the fading sign
Of a deathless love and pride;
These cling more close than the laurels twine,
They are strong as the world is wide:
At the feet of Virtue in Valour clad
Shall glory and love be laid,
While Glory sings to an English lad,
Or Love to an English maid.
Wherever the gleams of an English fire
On an English roof-tree shine,
Wherever the fire of a youth's desire
Is laid upon Honour's shrine,
Wherever brave deeds are treasured and told,
In the tale of the deeds of yore
Like jewels of price in a chain of gold
Are the name and the fame he bore.
Wherever the track of our English ships
Lies white on the ocean foam,
His name is sweet to our English lips
As the names of the flowers at home;
Wherever the heart of an English boy
Grows big with a deed of worth,
Such names as his name have begot the same,
Such hearts will bring it to birth.
They say that his England, grown tired and old,
Lies drunk by her heavy hoard;
They say her hands have the grasp of the gold
But not the grip of the sword,
That her robe of glory is rent and shred,
And that winds of shame blow through:
Speak for your England, O mighty Dead,
In the deeds you would have her do!
Small skill have we to fight with the pen
Who fought with the sword of old,
For the sword that is wielded of Englishmen
Is as much as one hand can hold.
Yet the pen and the tongue are safe to use,
And the coward and the wise choose these;
But fools and brave were our English crews
When Nelson swept the seas.
'Tis the way of a statesman to fear and fret,
To ponder and pause and plan,
But the way of Nelson was better yet,
For that was the way of a man;
They would teach us smoothness, who once were rough,
They have bidden us palter and pray,
But the way of Nelson was good enough,
For that was the fighting way.
If Nelson's England must stoop to bear
What never honour should brook,
In vain does the tomb of her hero wear
The laurel his brow forsook;
In vain was the speech from the lips of her guns,
If now must her lips refrain;
In vain has she made us, her living sons,
Her dead have made her in vain.
So here with your bays be the dear head crowned,
Lay flowers where the dear dust lies,
And wreathe his column with laurel round
To point his fame to the skies;
But the greenest laurel that ever grew
Is the laurel that's yet to win;
Crowned with his laurels he waits for You
To bring Your laurels in!
Scheme | XABACDCD EFEFGHGH GIGIJKJK LMLMNONO PLPLQBQB RSRSXTXT QUQUCVCV XQXQXWXW XYXYZGZG D1 D1 2 3 2 3 4 K4 KV5 V5 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1110110101 1110111 111010111 011111 110111101 1111101 10111010101 0111111 11101010101 1110101 110101101 11110101 111110111 11111001 010110101 0110111 11011001111 011101 01001011 1100111 1101011001 1110111 1111010101 11011101 1101100101 101101 111110101 11110111 101110011 1100111 110111101 1111101 01001111010 1110111 010010101010 110111 0101111001 00110111 1101100111 10100111 01001110101 1110101 1111110101 101101011 0100111101 1110111 1111110101 1111111 11111011001 1110101 1101101101 1101101 1011101101 0111111 111101101 00111101 111111101 1110111 1011110110 11111111 1010011111 001000111 1101010101 110101 10110101101 1100101 1011101101 11101101 1111101101 11101101 1011101101 1110101 110101111 110111 0110110101 0101101 01101101101 1110101 0111110101 0111001 1111110111 11010111 011101101 1111101 1010101101 10101111 111101111 111100 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,259 |
Words | 648 |
Sentences | 17 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 88 |
Letters per line (avg) | 29 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 229 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 59 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 3:15 min read
- 130 Views
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"A Song Of Trafalgar" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/8769/a-song-of-trafalgar>.
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