Analysis of The Song OF The Sons
One from the ends of the earth -- gifts at an open door --
Treason has much, but we, Mother, thy sons have more!
From the whine of a dying man, from the snarl of a wolf-pack freed,
Turn, and the world is thine. Mother, be proud of thy seed!
Count, are we feeble or few? Hear, is our speech so rude?
Look, are we poor in the land? Judge, are we men of The Blood?
Those that have stayed at thy knees, Mother, go call them in --
We that were bred overseas wait and would speak with our kin.
Not in the dark do we fight -- haggle and flout and gibe;
Selling our love for a price, loaning our hearts for a bribe.
Gifts have we only to-day -- Love without promise or fee --
Hear, for thy children speak, from the uttermost parts of the sea!
Scheme | AABBXX CCDDEE |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101101111101 101111101111 1011010110110111 1001111011111 11110111110111 11110011111101 1111111101110 110110110111101 1001111100101 1010110110101101 11110111011011 1111011011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 735 |
Words | 152 |
Sentences | 11 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 12 |
Letters per line (avg) | 45 |
Words per line (avg) | 13 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 272 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 77 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 45 sec read
- 129 Views
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"The Song OF The Sons" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/33573/the-song-of-the-sons>.
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