Analysis of The Prodigal Son
Rudyard Kipling 1865 (Mumbai) – 1936 (London)
Here come I to my own again,
Fed, forgiven and known again,
Claimed by bone of my bone again
And cheered by flesh of my flesh.
The fatted calf is dressed for me,
But the husks have greater rest for me,
I think my pigs will be best for me,
So I'm off to the Yards afresh.
I never was very refined, you see,
(And it weighs on my brother's mind, you see)
But there's no reproach among swine, d'you see,
For being a bit of a swine.
So I'm off with wallet and staff to eat
The bread that is three parts chaff to wheat,
But glory be! - there's a laugh to it,
Which isn't the case when we dine.
My father glooms and advises me,
My brother sulks and despises me,
And Mother catechises me
Till I want to go out and swear.
And, in spite of the butler's gravity,
I know that the servants have it I
Am a monster of moral depravity,
And I'm damned if I think it's fair!
I wasted my substance, I know I did,
On riotous living, so I did,
But there's nothing on record to show I did
Worse than my betters have done.
They talk of the money I spent out there -
They hint at the pace that I went out there -
But they all forget I was sent out there
Alone as a rich man's son.
So I was a mark for plunder at once,
And lost my cash (can you wonder?) at once,
But I didn't give up and knock under at once,
I worked in the Yards, for a spell,
Where I spent my nights and my days with hogs.
And shared their milk and maize with hogs,
Till, I guess, I have learned what pays with hogs
And - I have that knowledge to sell!
So back I go to my job again,
Not so easy to rob again,
Or quite so ready to sob again
On any neck that's around.
I'm leaving, Pater. Good-bye to you!
God bless you, Mater! I'll write to you!
I wouldn't be impolite to you,
But, Brother, you are a hound!
Scheme | AAABCCCB CCCDEEXD CCCFCXCF GGGHFFFH IIIJKKKJ AAALMMML |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111101 10100101 11111101 0111111 0111111 101110111 111111111 11110101 1101100111 0111110111 11101011111 11001101 1111100111 011111111 110110111 11001111 110100101 110100101 01011 11111101 0011010100 111010111 10101100100 01111111 1101101111 110010111 11101011111 1111011 1110101111 1110111111 1110111111 0110111 1110111011 0111111011 111011011011 11001101 1111101111 01110111 1111111111 01111011 111111101 11101101 111101101 1101101 110101111 111101111 11010011 1101101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,746 |
Words | 367 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 48 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 218 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 61 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 03, 2023
- 1:55 min read
- 260 Views
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"The Prodigal Son" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/33532/the-prodigal-son>.
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