Analysis of What Grandfather Said
(_An epistle from a narrow-minded old gentleman to a young artist of
superior intellect and intense realism._)
Your thoughts are for the poor and weak?
Ah, no, the picturesque's your passion!
Your tongue is always in your cheek
At poverty that's not in fashion.
You like a ploughman's rugged face,
Or painted eyes in Piccadilly;
But bowler hats are commonplace,
And thread-bare tradesmen simply silly.
The clerk that sings 'God save the King,'
And still believes his Tory paper,--
You hate the anæmic fool? I thought
You loved the weak! Was that all vapour?
Ah, when you sneer, dear democrat,
At such a shiny-trousered Tory
Because he doffs his poor old hat
To what he thinks his country's glory,
To you it's just a coloured rag.
You hate the 'patriots' that bawl so.
Well, my Ulysses, there's a flag
That lifts men in Republics also.
No doubt his thoughts are cruder far;
And, where those linen folds are shaking,
Perhaps he sees a kind of star
Because his eyes are tired and aching.
Banal enough! Banal as truth!
But I'm not thinking of his banners.
I'm thinking of his pinched white youth
And your disgusting 'new art' manners.
His meek submission stirs your hate?
Better, my lad, if you're so fervent,
Turn your cold steel against the State
Instead of sneering at the servant.
He does his job. He draws his pay.
You sneer, and dine with those that pay him;
And then you write a snobbish play
For democrats, in which you play him.
Ah, yes, you like simplicity
That sucks its cheeks to make the dimple.
But this domestic bourgeoisie
You hate,--because it's all too simple.
You hate the hearth, the wife, the child,
You hate the heavens that bend above them.
Your simple folk must all run wild
Like jungle-beasts before you love them.
You own a house in Cheyne Walk,
(You say it costs three thousand fully)
Where subtle snobs can talk and talk
And play the intellectual bully.
Yes. I say 'snobs.' Are names alone
Free from all change? Your word 'Victorian'
Could bite and sting in ninety one
But now--it's deader than the saurian.
You think I live in yesterday,
Because I think your way the wrong one;
But I have hewed and ploughed my way,
And--unlike yours--it's been a long one.
I let Victoria toll her bell,
And went with Strindberg for a ride, sir.
I've fought through your own day as well,
And come out on the other side, sir,--
The further side, the morning side,
I read free verse (the Psalms) on Sunday.
But I've decided (you'll decide)
That there is room for song on Monday.
I've seen the new snob on his way,
The intellectual snob I mean, sir,
The artist snob, in book and play,
Kicking his mother round the scene, sir.
I've heard the Tories talk like fools;
And the rich fool that apes the Tory.
I've seen the shopmen break your rules
And die like Christ, in Christ's own glory.
But, as for you, that liberal sneer
Reminds me of the poor old Kaiser.
He was a 'socialist,' my dear.
Well, I'm your grandson. You'll grow wiser.
Scheme | XA BCBC DEDE FGXG HEHE IJIJ KFKF LMLM NONO PAPA EQEQ RARA SESE XCCC PCPC TGTG UPUE PGPG VEVE WGWG |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10101010101100101101 0100100011 11110101 1101110 1111011 110011010 1101101 11010100 1101110 011101010 01111101 010111010 11011111 11011111 1111110 11010110 01111111 111111010 11110101 110100111 11010101 111001010 1111111 011101110 01110111 0111110010 01010111 111101110 11011111 010101110 11010111 101111110 11110101 011101010 11111111 110111111 01110101 11001111 11110100 111111010 110101 110111110 11010101 1101011011 11011111 110101111 1101011 111111010 11011101 010010010 11111101 1111110100 11010101 11110101 1111010 011111011 11110111 001111011 110100101 01111011 11111111 011101011 01010101 11110111 111011 111111110 11011111 001001111 01010101 101101011 11010111 001111010 1101111 011101110 111111001 011101110 11010011 11111110 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,868 |
Words | 539 |
Sentences | 42 |
Stanzas | 20 |
Stanza Lengths | 2, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 78 |
Letters per line (avg) | 29 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 113 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 27 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:47 min read
- 63 Views
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"What Grandfather Said" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/1221/what-grandfather-said>.
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