Analysis of The Soldier
Robert Frost 1874 (San Francisco) – 1963 (Boston)
He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.
Scheme | ABBACDDCEFFEGF |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111011111 11111111 1111011101 1111011101 1101011111 1101111111 0101110101 1010111111 111101101 0111010111 1111110111 1111010011 0101010101 1011010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 624 |
Words | 117 |
Sentences | 5 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 482 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 115 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 02, 2023
- 35 sec read
- 598 Views
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