Analysis of Flying Crooked
Robert Graves 1895 (Wimbledon) – 1985 (Deià)
The butterfly, the cabbage white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has — who knows so well as I? —
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.
Scheme | AABBCCDEFF |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (30%) Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 0100101 110100011 11011111 10011101 11111111 01111111 11010111 01010100 1000101 11110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 328 |
Words | 65 |
Sentences | 4 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 10 |
Lines Amount | 10 |
Letters per line (avg) | 25 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 249 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 63 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 26, 2023
- 19 sec read
- 264 Views
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"Flying Crooked" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/31121/flying-crooked>.
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