Analysis of The Countersign
Alas! the weary hours pass slow,
The night is very dark and still;
And in the marshes far below
I hear the bearded whippoorwill;
I scarce can see a yard ahead,
My ears are strained to catch each sound;
I hear the leaves about me shed,
And the spring's bubbling through the ground.
Along the beaten path I pace,
Where white rags mark my sentry's track;
In formless shrubs I seem to trace
The foeman's form with bending back,
I think I see him crouching low:
I stop and list - I stoop and peer,
Until the neighboring hillocks grow
To groups of soldiers far and near.
With ready piece I wait and watch,
Until my eyes, familiar grown,
Detect each harmless earthen notch,
And turn guerillas into stone;
And then, amid the lonely gloom,
Beneath the tall old chestnut trees,
My silent marches I resume,
And think of other times than these.
Sweet visions through the silent night!
The deep bay-windows fringed with vine.
The room within, in softened light,
The tender milk-white hand in mine;
The timid pressure, and the pause
That often overcame our speech -
That time when by mysterious laws
We each felt all in all to each.
And then that bitter, bitter day
When came the final hour to part;
When clad in soldier's honest gray,
I pressed her weeping to my heart;
Too proud of me to bid me stay,
Too fond of me to let me go, -
I had to tear myself away,
And left her, stolid in my woe.
So rose the dream - so passed the night -
When, distant in the darksome glen,
Approaching up the sombre height
I heard the solid march of men;
Till over stubble, over sward,
And fields where lay the golden sheaf,
I saw the lantern of the guard
Advancing with the night relief.
'Halt! Who goes there?' My challenge cry,
It rings along the watchful line;
'Relief!' I hear a voice reply;
'Advance and give the countersign!'
With bayonet at the charge I wait -
The corporal gives the mystic spell;
With arms aport I charge my mate,
Then onward pass, and all is well.
But in the tent that night awake,
I ask, if in the fray I fall,
Can I the mystic answer make
When the angelic sentries call?
And pray that Heaven may so ordain,
Where'er I go, what fate be mine,
Whether in pleasure or in pain,
I still may have the countersign.
Scheme | AXAABCBC DEDEAFAF GHGHIJIJ KLKLMNMN OPOPOAOA KQKQXRXR SLSHTUTU VWVWXLXH |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 010101011 01110101 00010101 110101 11110101 11111111 11010111 001100101 01010111 1111111 0111111 0111101 11111101 11011101 01010011 11110101 11011101 01110101 01110101 01010011 01010101 0101111 11010101 01110111 11010101 01110111 01010101 01011101 01010001 110101101 111101001 11110111 01110101 110101011 11010101 11010111 11111111 11111111 1111101 01010011 11011101 1100011 0101011 11010111 11010101 01110101 11010101 01010101 11111101 11010101 01110101 010101 11010111 010010101 1111111 11010111 10011101 11100111 11010101 1010101 011101101 10111111 10010101 111101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,147 |
Words | 420 |
Sentences | 17 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 64 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 213 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 52 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:06 min read
- 116 Views
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"The Countersign" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/3485/the-countersign>.
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