Analysis of Sister Ann
Edward George Dyson 1865 (Ballarat, Victoria) – 1931 (Saint Kilda, Melbourne, Victoria)
I'm lyin' in a narrow bed,
'N' starin' at a wall.
Where all is white my plastered head
Is whitest of it all.
My life is jist a whitewashed blank,
With flamin' spurts of pain.
I dunno who I've got to thank,
I've p'raps been trod on by a tank,
Or caught out in the rain
When skies were peltin' fish-plates, bricks
'n' lengths of bullock-chain.
I'm lyin' here, a sulky swine,
'N' hatin' of the bloke
Who's in the doss right next to mine
With 'arf his girders broke.
He never done no 'arm t me,
'N' he's pertickler ill;
But I have got him snouted, see,
'N' all old earth beside but she
Come with the chemist's swill,
'N' puts a kind, soft 'and on mine, 'n' all
my nark is still.
She ain't a beaut, she's thirty two,
She scales eleven stone;
But, 'struth, I didn't think it true
There was such women grown!
She's nurse 'n' sister, mum 'n' dad,
'N' all that straight 'n' fine
In every girl I ever had.
When Gabr'el comes, 'n' all the glad
Young saints are tipped the sign,
You'll see this donah take her place, first
angel in the line!
She's sweet 'n' cool, her touch is dew—
Wet lilies on yer brow.
(Jist 'ark et me what never knew
Of lilies up to now).
She fits your case in 'arf a wink,
'N' knows how, why, 'n' where.
If you are five days gone in drink,
N' hoverin' on perdition's brink,
It is her brother there.
God how pain will take a man, and
He has spoke with her!
I dunno if she ever sleeps
Ten minutes at a stretch.
A dozen times a night she creeps
To soothe a screamin' wretch
Who has a tiger-headed Hun
A-gnawin' at his chest.
'N' when the long, 'ard flght is won,
'N' he is still 'n' nearly done,
She smiles down on his rest,
'N' minds me of a mother with a baby at her
breast.
The curly kid we cuddled when
There was no splendid row
(It seemed a little matter then,
But feels so wondrous now).
It's part of her. She's Joan iv Ark,
Flo Nightingale, all fair
'N' dinkum dames who've made their mark
If she comes tip-toe in the dark,
We blighters feel her there.
The whole pack perks up like a bird, 'n'
sorter takes the air.
She chats you in a 'Ighland botch;
But if our Sis saw fit
To pitch Hindoo instead of Scotch
I'd get the hang of it,
Because her heart it is that talks
What now is plain to me.
At war where bloody murder stalks,
'N' Nick his hottest samples hawks.
I have been given to see
What simple human kindness is, what
brotherhood may be.
Scheme | ABABCDCCDXD EFEFGHGGHBH IJIJKEKKEXE ILILMNMMNXO PQPQRSRRSOS TXTLUNUUNTN VWVWXGXXGXG |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1100101 110101 11111101 110111 1111011 11111 10111111 111111101 111001 1101111 111101 111011 11101 10011111 111101 11011111 1111 1111111 11110111 11011 1101101111 1111 11011101 110101 11110111 111101 11110111 111111 010011101 1111101 111101 11111011 10001 11110111 110111 11111101 110111 11110101 111111 11111101 11111 110101 11111010 11110 10111101 110101 01010111 11011 11010101 01111 11011111 11111101 111111 1111010101010 1 01011101 111101 11010101 111101 11101111 110011 1110111 11111001 11101 011111011 10101 1110011 1110111 1110111 110111 01011111 111111 11110101 11110101 1111011 110101011 1011 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,368 |
Words | 469 |
Sentences | 25 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 11, 11, 11, 11, 11, 11, 11 |
Lines Amount | 77 |
Letters per line (avg) | 22 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 247 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 67 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:26 min read
- 110 Views
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"Sister Ann" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/9581/sister-ann>.
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