Analysis of A Matter Of Privacy
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
Ben Bowyang spluttered with rage suppressed, 'Hi, there!' And his brow was black,
As two by two and three by three the tourists left the track,
Climbing the fence to his 'tater' patch, and down thro' his orchard land,
Flannelled or fashioned in strides and shorts - a saucy suburban band -
Giggling gambolling into his yard calling inane 'Cooees'
While Bowyang frothed at the mouth and fumed. But his voice was a futile wheeze,
And, heading the horde, in a blazer bright, monarch of all he surveyed,
Strode little Fitzmickle, the martinet, a Don in the drapery trade.
'You've trampled me taters,' Bowyang roared. 'Pinched bloom from me orchard bough!
You've pelted me poddies an' dished me fence! Look at that nettin' now!
Ain't you no respeck for a privit home, you towerist coots from town?'
But Mr Fitzmickle, he turned on his heel with a very superior frown.
'Come, ladies,' he said, 'come, gentlemen. Unmannerly rustic brute!
My card, with name and address, my man, if you wish to prosecute.'
Then back they trampled thro' the 'tater' patch, back o'er the orchard land,
While Bowyang gaped like a stranded fish, with the pasteboard cluthed in his hand.
Mr Fitzmickle, the martinet, sat in his smug retreat -
A very respectable villa set in a very respectable street.
For Mr Fitzmickle found harbor here when the contry boors came down
To dawdle about for their Show-week spree and clutter the streets in town.
Then in to him rushed his terrified wife, eyes wide, and breathing hard.
'Come quick!' she gasped. 'There's a mob of roughs gone crazy in our back yard!
They've trampled herbaceous borders down, they've kicked the canary's cage -'
'Enough!' cried Fitzmickle, all pink with wrath; and his rage was a ratepayer's rage.
Poker in hand, he rushed without; but paused by the scullery door
For there, on his seedlings, trodden and tossed, stood one whom he'd seen before.
And, gathered about in the burgeoning beds, were strangely silent men;
Till one with a beard spoke up and said, 'Explain to the gentleman, Ben.'
Ben Bowyang smiled, and his voice was bland as he said, 'Aw, well; we're 'ere
Jist sorta returnin' yer social call as you made on us last year.
My card!' And he bounced a clod from the face of the proud Fitzmicklian cat
But Mr Fitzmickle oblivious lay. He was having a fit on the mat.
Scheme | AABBCCDD EEFFGGBB HHFFIIJJ KKLLXXMM |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111011101111 11110111010101 1001111010111101 111001010100101 1001011110011 1111010111110101 0100100101111101 11010101001001 11011111111101 11011111111111 1111101111111 110111111101001001 1101111001101 11110111111110 11110101011100101 111101011011011 10101101101 0100100101001001001 11011101101111 11001111110100101 101111101110101 11111011111001011 11001010111011 011111110111011 10011101111011 11111010011111101 01001001001010101 11101110101101001 111011111111111 11111011111111 110110110110111 110101001111001101 |
Characters | 2,294 |
Words | 415 |
Sentences | 28 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 32 |
Letters per line (avg) | 56 |
Words per line (avg) | 13 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 446 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 103 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:05 min read
- 96 Views
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"A Matter Of Privacy" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6154/a-matter-of-privacy>.
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