Analysis of The Eternal Circle
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
Now, a visitor from somewhere right outside this Mundane Ball
Do not ask me where he came from, for that point's not clear at all;
For he might have been an angel, or he might have come from Mars,
Or from any of the other of the fixed or unfixed stars.
As regards his mental make-up he was much like you or me;
And he toured about the country, just to see what he could see.
Well, this superhuman person was of most inquiring mind,
And 'twas noted, from his questions, he was very far from blind,
And the striking thing about him was his stern, compelling eye,
That demanded Truth ungarbled when he paused for a reply.
And, despite the mental wriggles of the folk he interviewed,
When they placed the Truth before him she was ab-so-lutely nude.
At our Civilised Society he stared in some amaze,
As he muttered his equivalent for 'Gosh!' or 'Spare me days!'
For our cherished modes and customs knocked him sideways, so to speak.
'To solve,' said he, 'this mystery, now whither shall I seek?
For a sane and sound solution I must question those on high,'
Said this extra-mundane being with the stern, compelling eye.
Now, his methods were intelligent - I confess,
For he started with our Politics, religion and the Press.
Thus, he read a morning paper through, intently, ev'ry leaf,
Then hied him out to interview the editor-in-chief:
'They say that Truth lives in a well,' he muttered as he went;
'But her well is not an inkwell, I will lay my last lone cent.'
It chanced he found the editor unguarded and alone
At the office of the paper - 'twas the MORNING MEGAPHONE.
'Now, I take it,' said the visitor, 'you represent the Press,
That great Public Educator?' And the pressman murmured, 'Yes.'
'Yet in yesterday's edition I perceived a glaring lie!
How's this?' He fixed the pressman with his stern, compelling eye.
Then the editor he stammered, and the editor he 'hemmed'
And muttered things like 'Gracious me!' and likewise, 'Well, I'm demned!'
But the lady Truth came tripping, all undressed and unashamed;
'Oh, I own it!' cried the editor. 'But how can I be blamed?
There's our blighted advertisers and our readers - Spare my grief!
But we've got to please the public!' moaned the editor-in-chief.
'Now to interview a statesman and consider his reply,'
Said this strange Select Committee with the stern, compelling eye.
And the Honorable Member for Mud Flat he chanced to find
In a noble Spring-street building of a most palatial kind.
And the Honorable Member viewed his visitor with awe,
For he surely had the most compelling eye you ever saw.
'Now, then, tell me,' said the visitor; 'you are a man of State,
And you blither on the platform of this Nation grand and great;
Of this noble Land's great destiny I've heard you talking hard,
But, whene'er it comes to voting, it's the 'claims' of your back yard.
Do you represent the Nation, as you often say you do,
Or a hen-roost or a cow-yard, or a parish-pump or two?'
Then the politician stuttered, and the politician stared,
But to voice his patriotic platitudes he felt too scared;
For the lady Truth insisted, and he blurted, 'It's the Votes!
You must blame the dashed electors when you see us turn our coats!
Our constituents control us. You must please remember that.
And we've got to please the public!' whined the Member for Mud Flat.
'Now to look into religion,' said the visitor, 'I'm told
I may get much information from a Wowser-of-the-Fold.'
And he sought him out a Wowser of the very sternest breed:
'Sweet Charity, they tell me, is the keynote of your creed.
And of mercy for the sinner, and of succor for the weak
>From the pulpit, on a Sunday, I have often heard you speak;
Yet Charity is turned to Spite, and Scorn becomes your creed
When they speak of giving bounty to weak Magadalene in need.'
Then the Wowser hesitated, and the Wowser rolled his eyes,
And sought in vain to call to mind some Wowserish replies.
But the lady truth came peeping, and the Wowser cried, 'O, Lor!'
And he hastily drew the blind and softly closed the door.
'She is naked!' gasped the Wowser. 'Oh, where are the hussy's clothes?
If my dear brethren saw me now! Oh, what do you suppose!'
'The Truth!' exclaimed the querist with the stern, compelling eye.
''Tis my flock!' exclaimed the Wowser. 'Oh, I cannot tell a lie!
My flock of virgins sour and chaste, and matrons undeceived,
They would hound me from the pulpit if I said what I believed!
I dot on notoriety! The Truth it must be told.
Oh, I've got to please my public!' moaned the Wowser-of-the-Fold.
'Now, this Public; I must nail it,' said t
Scheme | AABBCC DDEEFF GGHHEE IIJJKK LLIIEE XDMMJJ EEDDXX NNOOPP QQRRSS TTUUHHUU VVWWXX EEDXTT C |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10100111111011 111111111111111 111111101111111 11101010101111 101110111111111 011010101111111 110101011101001 011011101110111 001010111110101 1010111111001 0010101101110 11101011111111 11010100110101 111010100111111 110101010111111 11111100110111 101010101110111 111001101010101 111000100101 111011010010001 11101010101011 1111110010001 11111001110111 10111111111111 11110100010001 10101010101010 11111010010101 11101000010101 10100101010101 11110101110101 10100110010011 0101110101111 10101110101001 111110100111111 1101010001010111 111110101010001 11100100010101 111010101010101 001000101111111 001011101010101 001000101110011 111010101011101 111110100110111 0111011110101 111011100111101 11111101011111 11010101110111 101110111010111 100101000101 1111010101111 101010100110101 1110101011111101 1001000111110101 011110101010111 111010101010011 1111010101101 01111011010101 1100111101111 011010100110101 10101011110111 11001111010111 1111101011101 101100001111 010111111101 10101110001111 01100101010101 1110101111011 11110111111101 0101011010101 11101011110101 1111010010101 111110101111101 1110100011111 11111110101101 1110111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 4,484 |
Words | 843 |
Sentences | 58 |
Stanzas | 13 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 6, 6, 1 |
Lines Amount | 75 |
Letters per line (avg) | 46 |
Words per line (avg) | 11 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 268 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 63 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:09 min read
- 52 Views
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"The Eternal Circle" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6633/the-eternal-circle>.
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