Analysis of Jump-To-Glory Jane
George Meredith 1828 (Portsmouth, Hampshire) – 1909 (Box Hill, Surrey)
A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.
For past our hearing was the air,
Beyond our speaking what it bare,
And she within herself had sight
Of heaven at work to cleanse outright,
To make of her a mansion fit
For angel hosts inside to sit.
They entered, and forthwith entranced,
Her body braced, her members danced;
Surprisingly the woman leapt;
And countenance composed she kept:
As gossip neighbours in the lane
Declared, who saw and pitied Jane.
These knew she had been reading books,
The which was witnessed by her looks
Of late: she had a mania
For mad folk in America,
And said for sure they led the way,
But meat and beer were meant to stay.
That she had visited a fair,
Had seen a gauzy lady there,
Alive with tricks on legs alone,
As good as wings, was also known:
And longwhiles in a sullen mood,
Before her jumping, Jane would brood.
A good knee's height, they say, she sprang;
Her arms and feet like those who hang:
As if afire the body sped,
And neither pair contributed.
She jumped in silence: she was thought
A corpse to resurrection caught.
The villagers were mostly dazed;
They jeered, they wondered, and they praised.
'Twas guessed by some she was inspired,
And some would have it she had hired
An engine in her petticoats,
To turn their wits and win their votes.
Her first was Winny Earnes, a kind
Of woman not to dance inclined;
But she went up, entirely won,
Ere Jump-to-glory Jane had done;
And once a vixen wild for speech,
She found the better way to preach.
No long time after, Jane was seen
Directing jumps at Daddy Green;
And that old man, to watch her fly,
Had eyebrows made of arches high;
Till homeward he likewise did hop,
Oft calling on himself to stop!
It was a scene when man and maid,
Abandoning all other trade,
And careless of the call to meals,
Went jumping at the woman's heels.
By dozens they were counted soon,
Without a sound to tell their tune.
Along the roads they came, and crossed
The fields, and o'er the hills were lost,
And in the evening reappeared;
Then short like hobbled horses reared,
And down upon the grass they plumped:
Alone their Jane to glory jumped.
At morn they rose, to see her spring
All going as an engine thing;
And lighter than the gossamer
She led the bobbers following her,
Past old acquaintances, and where
They made the stranger stupid stare.
When turnips were a filling crop,
In scorn they jumped a butcher's shop:
Or, spite of threats to flog and souse,
They jumped for shame a public-house:
And much their legs were seized with rage
If passing by the vicarage.
The tightness of a hempen rope
Their bodies got; but laundry soap
Not handsomer can rub the skin
For token of the washed within.
Occasionally coughers cast
A leg aloft and coughed their last.
The weaker maids and some old men,
Requiring rafters for the pen
On rainy nights, were those who fell.
The rest were quite a miracle,
Refreshed as you may search all round
On Club-feast days and cry, Not found!
For these poor innocents, that slept
Against the sky, soft women wept:
For never did they any theft;
'Twas known when they their camping left,
And jumped the cold out of their rags;
In spirit rich as money-bags.
They jumped the question, jumped reply;
And whether to insist, deny,
Reprove, persuade, they jumped in ranks
Or singly, straight the arms to flanks,
And straight the legs, with just a knee
For bending in a mild degree.
The villagers might call them mad;
An endless holiday they had,
Of pleasure in a serious work:
They taught by leaps where perils lurk,
And with the lambkins practised sports
For 'scaping Satan's pounds and quarts.
It really seemed on certain days,
When they bobbed up their Lord to praise,
And bobbing up they caught the glance
Of light, our secret is to dance,
And hold the tongue from hindering peace;
To dance out preacher and police.
Those flies of boys disturbed them sore
On Sund
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0010111 0101011 01010101 11010101 11010111 11110111 111010101 011010111 01010111 110111111 11100101 11010111 11001101 01010101 01000101 01000111 1101001 0111011 11111101 01110101 11110100 11100100 01111101 11010111 11110001 1101101 01111101 11111101 0100101 01010111 01111111 01011111 11010101 01010100 11010111 0110101 01000101 11110011 111111010 011111110 1100010 11110111 01110101 11011101 111101001 11110111 01010111 11010111 11110111 01011101 01111101 1111101 1101111 11010111 11011101 01001101 01010111 11010101 11010101 01011111 01011101 010100101 0001001 11110101 01010111 01111101 11111101 11011101 01010100 11011000 11010001 11010101 11000101 01110101 11111101 11110101 01110111 110101 01010101 11011101 111101 11010101 0100011 01010111 01010111 010010101 11010111 01010100 01111111 11110111 11110011 01011101 11011101 11111101 01011111 01011101 11010101 01010101 1011101 11010111 01011101 11000101 01001111 1101011 110001001 11111101 010111 111101 11011101 11111111 01011101 111010111 010111001 11110001 11110111 11 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,956 |
Words | 749 |
Sentences | 25 |
Stanzas | 20 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 2 |
Lines Amount | 116 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 158 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 36 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 17, 2023
- 3:46 min read
- 101 Views
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"Jump-To-Glory Jane" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/15483/jump-to-glory-jane>.
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