Analysis of A Ballad of Footmen
Amy Lowell 1874 (Brookline) – 1925 (Brookline)
Now what in the name of the sun and the stars
Is the meaning of this most unholy of wars?
Do men find life so full of humour and joy
That for want of excitement they smash up the toy?
Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses
All bent upon killing, because their 'of courses'
Are not quite the same. All these men by the ears,
And nine nations of women choking with tears.
It is folly to think that the will of a king
Can force men to make ducks and drakes of a thing
They value, and life is, at least one supposes,
Of some little interest, even if roses
Have not grown up between one foot and the other.
What a marvel bureaucracy is, which can smother
Such quite elementary feelings, and tag
A man with a number, and set him to wag
His legs and his arms at the word of command
Or the blow of a whistle! He's certainly damned,
Fit only for mince-meat, if a little gold lace
And an upturned moustache can set him to face
Bullets, and bayonets, and death, and diseases,
Because some one he calls his Emperor, pleases.
If each man were to lay down his weapon, and say,
With a click of his heels, 'I wish you Good-day,'
Now what, may I ask, could the Emperor do?
A king and his minions are really so few.
Angry? Oh, of course, a most furious Emperor!
But the men are so many they need not mind his temper, or
The dire results which could not be inflicted.
With no one to execute sentence, convicted
Is just the weak wind from an old, broken bellows.
What lackeys men are, who might be such fine fellows!
To be killing each other, unmercifully,
At an order, as though one said, 'Bring up the tea.'
Or is it that tasting the blood on their jaws
They lap at it, drunk with its ferment, and laws
So patiently builded, are nothing to drinking
More blood, any blood. They don't notice its stinking.
I don't suppose tigers do, fighting cocks, sparrows,
And, as to men - what are men, when their marrows
Are running with blood they have gulped; it is plain
Such excellent sport does not recollect pain.
Toll the bells in the steeples left standing. Half-mast
The flags which meant order, for order is past.
Take the dust of the streets and sprinkle your head,
The civilization we've worked for is dead.
Squeeze into this archway, the head of the line
Has just swung round the corner to `Die Wacht am Rhein'.
Scheme | AX BB CC XX DD EE FF GG XX HH CE II JJ FX XX KK XX LL DD KA MM NN OO PP |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11001101001 101011101011 1111111101 111101011101 011011011010 110110011110 11101111101 01101101011 111011101101 11111101101 110011111010 11101010110 111101110010 1010010011110 110101001 01101001111 11011101101 101101011001 110111101011 011111111 10010010010 011111110010 111011111001 10111111111 11111101001 01011011011 1011101100100 101111011111101 01011111010 11111010010 110111111010 110111111110 11101101 111011111101 11111001111 11111110101 11001110110 111011110110 110110110110 0111111111 11011111111 1100111011 101001011011 01111011011 10110101011 0001011111 1011101101 111101011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic hexameter |
Characters | 2,267 |
Words | 442 |
Sentences | 23 |
Stanzas | 24 |
Stanza Lengths | 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2 |
Lines Amount | 48 |
Letters per line (avg) | 37 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 74 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 18 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 02, 2023
- 2:13 min read
- 167 Views
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"A Ballad of Footmen" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/2175/a-ballad-of-footmen>.
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