Analysis of The Sword
THE FORGING OF THE SWORD.
At the forging of the Sword--
The mountain roots were stirr'd,
Like the heart-beats of a bird;
Like flax the tall trees wav'd,
So fiercely struck the Forgers of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
So loud the hammers fell,
The thrice seal'd gates of Hell,
Burst wide their glowing jaws;
Deep roaring, at the forging of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
Kind mother Earth was rent,
Like an Arab's dusky tent,
And monster-like she fed--
On her children; at the forging of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
So loud the blows they gave,
Up sprang the panting wave;
And blind and furious slew,
Shrill-shouting to the Forgers of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
The startled air swift whirl'd
The red flames round the world,
From the Anvil where was smitten,
The steel, the Forgers wrought into the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
The Maid and Matron fled,
And hid them with the dead;
Fierce prophets sang their doom,
More deadly, than the wounding of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
Swift leap'd the quiet hearts,
In the meadows and the marts;
The tides of men were drawn,
By the gleaming sickle-planet of the Sword!
* * * * *
Thus wert thou forged, O lissome sword;
On such dusk anvil wert thou wrought;
In such red flames thy metal fused!
From such deep hells that metal brought;
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord!
Less than the Gods by some small span,
Slim sword, how great thy lieges be!
Glint but in _one_ wild camp-fire's light,
Thy God-like vassals rush to thee.
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord!
Sharp, God, how vast thy altars be!
Green vallies, sacrificial cups,
Flow with the purple lees of blood;
Its smoke is round the mountain tops.
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord!
O amorous God, fierce lover thou!
Bright sultan of a million brides,
Thou know'st no rival to _thy_ kiss,
Thy loves are _thine_ whate're betides,
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord.
Unflesh thee, sword! No more, no more,
Thy steel no more shall sting and shine,
Pass thro' the fusing fires again;
And learn to prune the laughing vine.
Fall sword, dread lord, with one accord,
The plough and hook we'll own as lord!
Scheme | a Abbxa Accda Aeefa Aggxa Ahhxa Affxa Aiixa ajxjBA xkxkBA kxxxBA xxxdBA xlxlaa |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 010101 1010101 010101 1011101 110111 1101010101 1010101 110101 011111 111101 1101010101 1010101 110111 11111 010111 10101010101 1010101 110111 110101 0101001 1101010101 1010101 010111 011101 10101110 0101010101 1010101 010101 011101 110111 1101010101 1010101 110101 001001 011101 10101010101 1 1111111 11110111 01111101 11111101 111111111 111101 11011111 1111111 110111101 11110111 111111111 111101 11111101 110101 11010111 11110101 111111111 111101 110011101 11010101 111110111 1111111 111111111 111101 1111111 11111101 110101001 01110101 11111101 01011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,273 |
Words | 427 |
Sentences | 22 |
Stanzas | 14 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 1, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 67 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 127 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 30 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:13 min read
- 34 Views
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"The Sword" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/19943/the-sword>.
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