Analysis of The Lunger
Jack would laugh an' joke all day;
Never saw a lad so gay;
Singin' like a medder lark,
Loaded to the Plimsoll mark
With God's sunshine was that boy;
Had a strangle-holt on Joy.
Held his head 'way up in air,
Left no callin' cards on Care;
Breezy, buoyant, brave and true;
Sent his sunshine out to you;
Cheerfulest when clouds was black --
Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Sittin' in my shack alone
I could hear him in his own,
Singin' far into the night,
Till it didn't seem just right
One man should corral the fun,
Live his life so in the sun;
Didn't seem quite natural
Not to have a grouch at all;
Not a trouble, not a lack --
Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
He was plumbful of good cheer
Till he struck that low-down year;
Got so thin, so little to him,
You could most see day-light through him.
Never was his eye so bright,
Never was his cheek so white.
Seemed as if somethin' was wrong,
Sort o' quaver in his song.
Same old smile, same hearty voice:
"Bless you, boys! let's all rejoice!"
But old Doctor shook his head:
"Half a lung," was all he said.
Yet that half was surely right,
For I heard him every night,
Singin', singin' in his shack --
Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Then one day a letter came
Endin' with a female name;
Seemed to get him in the neck,
Sort o' pile-driver effect;
Paled his lip and plucked his breath,
Left him starin' still as death.
Somethin' had gone awful wrong,
Yet that night he sang his song.
Oh, but it was good to hear!
For there clutched my heart a fear,
So that I quaked listenin'
Every night to hear him sing.
But each day he laughed with me,
An' his smile was full of glee.
Nothin' seemed to set him back --
Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Then one night the singin' stopped . . .
Seemed as if my heart just flopped;
For I'd learned to love the boy
With his gilt-edged line of joy,
With his glorious gift of bluff,
With his splendid fightin' stuff.
Sing on, lad, and play the game!
O dear God! . . . no singin' came,
But there surged to me instead --
Silence, silence, deep and dread;
Till I shuddered, tried to pray,
Said: "He's maybe gone away."
Oh, yes, he had gone away,
Gone forever and a day.
But he'd left behind him there,
In his cabin, pinched and bare,
His poor body, skin and bone,
His sharp face, cold as a stone.
An' his stiffened fingers pressed
Somethin' bright upon his breast:
Locket with a silken curl,
Poor, sweet portrait of a girl.
Yet I reckon at the last
How defiant-like he passed;
For there sat upon his lips
Smile that death could not eclipse;
An' within his eyes lived still
Joy that dyin' could not kill.
An' now when the nights are long,
How I miss his cheery song!
How I sigh an' wish him back!
Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Scheme | aabbccddeefF gghhiixxfF jjkkhhllmmnnhhfF ooxxppllxjgxqqfF rrccssoonnaaaaddggttuuvvwwxx llfF |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111111 1010111 11011 101011 111111 1010111 1111101 111111 1010101 111111 11111 1011101 101101 1111011 110101 1110111 1110101 1111001 1011100 1110111 1010101 1011101 111111 1111111 11111011 11111111 1011111 1011111 111111 1110011 1111101 1111101 1110111 1011111 1111101 11111001 11011 1011101 1110101 11011 1111001 1111001 1110111 1110111 111101 1111111 1111111 1111101 11111 10011111 1111111 1111111 1011111 1011101 111011 1111111 1111101 1111111 11100111 111011 1110101 111111 1111101 1010101 1110111 1110101 1111101 1010001 1110111 0110101 1110101 1111101 1110101 110111 1010101 1110101 1110101 1010111 1110111 1111101 1011111 111111 1110111 1111101 1111111 1011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,627 |
Words | 518 |
Sentences | 39 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 12, 10, 16, 16, 28, 4 |
Lines Amount | 86 |
Letters per line (avg) | 23 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 333 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 87 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:36 min read
- 59 Views
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"The Lunger" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32583/the-lunger>.
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