Analysis of David Cleek
Siegfried Sassoon 1886 (Matfield) – 1967 (Heytesbury)
I cannot think that Death will press his claim
To snuff you out or put you off your game:
You’ll still contrive to play your steady round,
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground,
And darkness blur the sandy-skirted green
Where silence gulfs the shot you strike so clean.
Saint Andrew guard your ghost, old David Cleek,
And send you home to Fifeshire once a week!
Good fortune speed your ball upon its way
When Heaven decrees its mightiest Medal Day;
Till saints and angels hymn for evermore
The miracle of your astounding score;
And He who keeps all players in His sight,
Walking the royal and ancient hills of light
Standing benignant at the eighteenth hole,
To everlasting Golf consigns your soul.
Scheme | AABBCC DDEEFFGGHH |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101111111 1111111111 1101111101 110110101 0101010101 1101011111 1101111101 011111101 1101110111 110011100101 110101110 0100110101 0111110011 10010010111 10110011 10101111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 714 |
Words | 125 |
Sentences | 4 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 10 |
Lines Amount | 16 |
Letters per line (avg) | 36 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 285 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 62 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 26, 2023
- 37 sec read
- 36 Views
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"David Cleek" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/34866/david-cleek>.
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