Analysis of Cui Bono
Adam Lindsay Gordon 1833 – 1870
Oh! wind that whistles o'er thorns and thistles,
Of this fruitful earth like a goblin elf;
Why should he labour to help his neighbour
Who feels too reckless to help himself?
The wail of the breeze in the bending trees
Is something between a laugh and a groan;
And the hollow roar of the surf on the shore
Is a dull, discordant monotone;
I wish I could guess what sense they express,
There's a meaning, doubtless, in every sound,
Yet no one can tell, and it may be as well —
Whom would it profit? — The world goes round!
On this earth so rough we know quite enough,
And, I sometimes fancy, a little too much;
The sage may be wiser than clown or than kaiser,
Is he more to be envied for being such?
Neither more nor less, in his idleness
The sage is doom'd to vexation sure;
The kaiser may rule, but the slippery stool,
That he calls his throne, is no sinecure;
And as for the clown, you may give him a crown,
Maybe he'll thank you, and maybe not,
And before you can wink he may spend it in drink —
To whom does it profit? — We ripe and rot!
Yet under the sun much work is done
By clown and kaiser, by serf and sage;
All sow and some reap, and few gather the heap
Of the garner'd grain of a by-gone age.
By sea or by soil man is bound to toil,
And the dreamer, waiting for time and tide,
For awhile may shirk his share of the work,
But he grows with his dream dissatisfied;
He may climb to the edge of the beetling ledge,
Where the loose crag topples and well-nigh reels
'Neath the lashing gale, but the tonic will fail —
What does it profit? — Wheels within wheels!
Aye! work we must, or with idlers rust,
And eat we must our bodies to nurse;
Some folk grow fatter — what does it matter?
I'm blest if I do — quite the reverse;
'Tis a weary round to which we are bound,
The same thing over and over again;
Much toil and trouble, and a glittering bubble,
That rises and bursts, is the best we gain;
And we murmur, and yet 'tis certain we get
What good we deserve — can we hope for more? —
They are roaring, those waves, in their echoing caves —
To whom do they profit? — Let them roar!
Scheme | XABAXCBCXDXD XEBEXBXBXFXF XGXGXHXHXIXI XJBJDX XXXBXB |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110101010 1110110101 11111111 111101101 0110100101 1100101001 00101101101 10101010 1111111101 10101001001 11111011111 111100111 1111111101 01011001011 011110111110 11111101101 1011101100 0111111 01011101001 11111111 01101111101 101110101 001111111101 1111101101 110011111 110101101 11011011001 1010110111 1111111111 0010101101 1011111101 111111010 1111011011 1011100111 10101101011 111101011 11111111 0111101011 1111011110 111111001 1010111111 0111001001 110100010010 1100110111 01100111011 1110111111 111011011001 111110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,068 |
Words | 418 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 12, 12, 12, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 48 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 316 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 83 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:07 min read
- 75 Views
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"Cui Bono" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/149/cui-bono>.
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