Analysis of The Cab Horses' Story
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
Now, you wouldn't imagine, to look at me,
That I was a racehorse once.
I have done my mile in - let me see
No matter. I was no dunce.
But you'd not believe me if I told
Of gallops I did in days of old.
I was first in - ah, well! What's the good?
It hurts to recall those days
When I drew from men, as a proud horse should,
Nothing but words of praise:
Oh, the waving hats, and the cheering crowd!
How could a horse help being proud?
My owner was just as proud as I;
I was cuddled and petted and praised.
My fame was great and my price was high,
And every year 'twas raised.
Then I strained a sinew in ninety-nine,
And that's when started my swift decline.
I was turned to grass for a year or so;
Then dragged to an auction sale;
And a country sport gave me a go;
But how could I hope but fail?
'A crock,' said he. And I here began
To learn of the ways of cruel man.
A year I spent as a lady's hack
I was growing old and spent
But she said that the riding hurt her back;
So we parted; and I went
For a while - and it nearly broke my heart
Dragging a greasy butcher's cart.
Then my stifle went. And I, proud horse,
Son of the nobly born,
The haughty king of a city course,
Knew even a butcher's scorn!
So down the ladder I quickly ran;
Till I came to be owned by a bottle man.
And my bed was hard and my food was poor,
And my work was harder still
Dragging a cart from door to door
The slave of Bottle-oh Bill.
Till even he, for a few mean bob,
Sold me into this hateful job.
As I dozed and dreamed in the ranks one day,
Thinking of good days past,
I heard a voice that I knew cry, 'Hey!
Say, cabby, is this horse fast?'
And he looked at me in a way I know.
'Twas the man I'd loved in the long ago.
'Twas my dear, old master of ninety-nine,
And I waited, fair surprised.
But ne'er by a look and ne'er by sign
Did he show he recognised.
Then I heard his words ('twas my last hard knock):
'Why don't you pole-axe the poor old crock?'
And he turned aside to a low-bred mare
That was foaled on some cockie's farm,
And he drove away. What do I care?
I can come to no more harm.
In a knacker's yard I am worth at least
Some pence for a hungry lion's feast.
Scheme | ABABCC DEDEFF GHGHII JKJKLL MNMNOO PQPQLL XRXRSS TUTUJJ IXICVV WXWXYY |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (27%) |
Metre | 11100101111 111011 111110111 1101111 111011111 11110111 111011101 111111 1111110111 101111 1010100101 11011101 110111111 111001001 111101111 0100111 111010101 011101101 1111110111 1111101 001011101 1111111 011101101 111011101 011110101 1110101 1111010101 1110011 1010110111 10010101 111010111 110101 010110101 1100101 110101101 11111110101 0111101111 0111101 10011111 0111011 110110111 11011101 1110100111 101111 110111111 1101111 0111100111 1011100101 1111101101 0110101 111010111 11111 1111111111 111110111 0110110111 1111111 011011111 1111111 001111111 111010101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,107 |
Words | 454 |
Sentences | 32 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 60 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 160 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 45 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:19 min read
- 87 Views
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"The Cab Horses' Story" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6592/the-cab-horses%27-story>.
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