Analysis of The Old, Old Story and the New Order
Henry Lawson 1867 (Grenfell) – 1922 (Sydney)
They proved we could not think nor see,
They proved we could not write,
They proved we drank the day away
And raved through half the night.
They proved our stars were never up,
They’ve proved our stars are set,
They’ve proved we ne’er saw sorrow’s cup,
And they’re not happy yet.
They proved that in the Southern Land
We all led vicious lives;
They’ve proved we starved our children, and—
They’ve proved we beat our wives.
They’ve proved we never worked, and we
Were never out of debt;
They’ve proved us bad as we can be
And they’re not happy yet.
The Daily Press, with paltry power—
For reasons understood—
Have aye sought to belittle our
Unhappy brotherhood.
Because we fought in days like these,
Where rule the upper tens—
Because we’d not write journalese,
Nor prostitute our pens.
They gave our rivals space to sneer—
Their mediocrities;
The drunkard’s mind is pure and clear
Compared with minds like these.
They sought to damn with pitying praise
Or the coward’s unsigned sneer,
For honour in the “critics’” ways
Had never virtue here.
They’ve proved our names shall not be known
A few short years ahead;
They hied them back through years of moan,
And damned our happy dead.
A newer tribe of scribes we’ve got,
Exclusive and alone,
To prove our work was childish rot,
And none of it our own.
The cultured cads of First Gem cells,
Of Mansion, Lawn and Club,
Not fit to clean the busted boots
Of “Poets of the Pub.”
They prove the partners of the part,
The wholeness of the whole,
The gizzardness of gizzards, and
The Soulness of the Soul.
They’ve proved that all is nought—but there
Are things they cannot do—
The summer skies are just as fair
And just as brightly blue.
They’ve buried us with muddied shrouds,
When our strong hearts they’ve broke.
They can’t bring down yon fleecy clouds
And make them factory smoke.
They’ve proved the simple bard a fool,
But still, for all their pains,
The children prattling home from school
Go tripping down the lanes.
They’ve proved that Love is lust or hate,
True marriage is no more,
But Jim and Mary at the gate
Are happy as of yore.
These insects seeking to unloose
The Bards of Sympathy!
Who strike with the sledge hammer force
Of their simplicity.
(They cannot turn the world about,
Nor damp the father’s joy,
When some old doctor bustles out,
And nurse says “It’s a boy!”)
They want no God but many a god,
And many gods, and none—
The preacher by the upturned sod
Shall pray when all is done.
Amongst the great ’twas aye the same—
The envious crawler’s part—
The lies that blackened Byron’s name
And banished poor Brett Harte.
We’ve learnt in bitter schools to teach
Man’s glory and his shame
Since Gordon walked along the beach
In search of bigger game.
Maybe, our talents we’ve abused
At times, and ne’er been blind
Since Barcroft Boake went out and used
His stockwhip to be kind.
But laugh, my chums, in prose and rhyme,
And worry not at all,
They’re insects whom the wheels of time
Shall crush exceeding small.
Have faith, my friends, who stand by me,
In spite of all the lies—
I tell you that a man shall die
On the day that Lawson dies.
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111111 111111 11110101 011101 111010101 1110111 11111101 011101 11100101 111101 111110100 1111101 11110101 010111 11111111 011101 010111010 11001 111101010 01010 01110111 110101 0111101 110101 111010111 11 01011101 011111 111111001 1010011 1100101 110101 111011111 011101 11111111 0110101 01011111 010001 111011101 0111101 01011111 110101 11110101 110101 11010101 010101 01110 01101 11111111 111101 01011111 011101 11011101 1101111 11111101 0111001 11010101 111111 01010111 110101 11111111 110111 11010101 110111 111011 011100 11101101 110100 11010101 110101 1111011 011101 111111001 010101 0101011 111111 01011101 010011 0111011 010111 11010111 110011 11010101 011101 101010101 110111 1111101 11111 11110101 010111 1110111 110101 11111111 011101 11110111 1011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,115 |
Words | 566 |
Sentences | 27 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 16, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 96 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 219 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 51 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:49 min read
- 79 Views
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"The Old, Old Story and the New Order" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/18058/the-old%2C-old-story-and-the-new-order>.
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