Analysis of On The Boulevard
Robert William Service 1874 – 1958
Oh, it's pleasant sitting here,
Seeing all the people pass;
You beside your bock of beer,
I behind my demi-tasse.
Chatting of no matter what.
You the Mummer, I the Bard;
Oh, it's jolly, is it not? --
Sitting on the Boulevard.
More amusing than a book,
If a chap has eyes to see;
For, no matter where I look,
Stories, stories jump at me.
Moving tales my pen might write;
Poems plain on every face;
Monologues you could recite
With inimitable grace.
(Ah! Imagination's power)
See yon demi-mondaine there,
Idly toying with a flower,
Smiling with a pensive air . . .
Well, her smile is but a mask,
For I saw within her muff
Such a wicked little flask:
Vitriol -- ugh! the beastly stuff.
Now look back beside the bar.
See yon curled and scented beau,
Puffing at a fine cigar --
Sale espèce de maquereau.
Well (of course, it's all surmise),
It's for him she holds her place;
When he passes she will rise,
Dash the vitriol in his face.
Quick they'll carry him away,
Pack him in a Red Cross car;
Her they'll hurry, so they say,
To the cells of St. Lazare.
What will happen then, you ask?
What will all the sequel be?
Ah! Imagination's task
Isn't easy . . . let me see . . .
She will go to jail, no doubt,
For a year, or maybe two;
Then as soon as she gets out
Start her bawdy life anew.
He will lie within a ward,
Harmless as a man can be,
With his face grotesquely scarred,
And his eyes that cannot see.
Then amid the city's din
He will stand against a wall,
With around his neck a tin
Into which the pennies fall.
She will pass (I see it plain,
Like a cinematograph),
She will halt and turn again,
Look and look, and maybe laugh.
Well, I'm not so sure of that --
Whether she will laugh or cry.
He will hold a battered hat
To the lady passing by.
He will smile a cringing smile,
And into his grimy hold,
With a laugh (or sob) the while,
She will drop a piece of gold.
"Bless you, lady," he will say,
And get grandly drunk that night.
She will come and come each day,
Fascinated by the sight.
Then somehow he'll get to know
(Maybe by some kindly friend)
Who she is, and so . . . and so
Bring my story to an end.
How his heart will burst with hate!
He will curse and he will cry.
He will wait and wait and wait,
Till again she passes by.
Then like tiger from its lair
He will leap from out his place,
Down her, clutch her by the hair,
Smear the vitriol on her face.
(Ah! Imagination rare)
See . . . he takes his hat to go;
Now he's level with her chair;
Now she rises up to throw. . . .
God! and she has done it too . . .
Oh, those screams; those hideous screams!
I imagined and . . . it's true:
How his face will haunt my dreams!
What a sight! It makes me sick.
Seems I am to blame somehow.
Garcon, fetch a brandy quick . . .
There! I'm feeling better now.
Let's collaborate, we two,
You the Mummer, I the Bard;
Oh, what ripping stuff we'll do,
Sitting on the Boulevard!
Scheme | abxbxCxC dedefgfg hihijkjk lmlangng oloojeje pqpqxece rsrsxkxx tutuvwvw ofofmxmx yuyuigig imimqzqz 1 2 1 2 qcqc |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1110101 1010101 1011111 1011101 1011101 101101 1110111 101010 1010101 1011111 1110111 1010111 1011111 10111001 101101 1010001 1110 111011 10101010 1010101 1011101 1110101 1010101 1001011 1110101 1110101 1010101 11111 1111101 1111101 1110111 10100011 1110101 1100111 0110111 10111010 1110111 1110101 111 1010111 1111111 1011101 1111111 1010101 1110101 1010111 1110101 0111101 1010101 1110101 1011101 0110101 1111111 101 1110101 1010101 1111111 1011111 1110101 1010101 1110101 0011101 1011101 1110111 1110111 0110111 1110111 100101 111111 1011101 1110101 1110111 1111111 1110111 1110101 1011101 1110111 1111111 1010101 10100101 100101 1111111 1110101 1110111 1011111 11111001 1010011 1111111 1011111 111111 110101 1110101 101011 101101 1110111 101010 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,776 |
Words | 549 |
Sentences | 70 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 96 |
Letters per line (avg) | 22 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 176 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 48 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:49 min read
- 84 Views
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"On The Boulevard" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32345/on-the-boulevard>.
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