Analysis of The Man From Athabaska
Robert William Service 1874 – 1958
Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming
Of a wood-pecker a-rapping on the hollow of a tree;
And she thought that I was fooling when I said it was the drumming
Of the mustering of legions, and 'twas calling unto me;
'Twas calling me to pull my freight and hop across the sea.
And a-mending of my fish-nets sure I started up in wonder,
For I heard a savage roaring and 'twas coming from afar;
Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas only summer thunder,
And she laughed a bit sarcastic when I told her it was War;
'Twas the chariots of battle where the mighty armies are.
Then down the lake came Half-breed Tom with russet sail a-flying,
And the word he said was "War" again, so what was I to do?
Oh the dogs they took to howling, and the missis took to crying,
As I flung my silver foxes in the little birch canoe:
Yes, the old girl stood a-blubbing till an island hid the view.
Says the factor: "Mike, you're crazy! They have soldier men a-plenty.
You're as grizzled as a badger, and you're sixty year or so."
"But I haven't missed a scrap," says I, "since I was one and twenty.
And shall I miss the biggest? You can bet your whiskers -- no!"
So I sold my furs and started . . . and that's eighteen months ago.
For I joined the Foreign Legion, and they put me for a starter
In the trenches of the Argonne with the Boche a step away;
And the partner on my right hand was an apache from Montmartre;
On my left there was a millionaire from Pittsburg, U. S. A.
(Poor fellow! They collected him in bits the other day.)
But I'm sprier than a chipmunk, save a touch of the lumbago,
And they calls me Old Methoosalah, and `blagues' me all the day.
I'm their exhibition sniper, and they work me like a Dago,
And laugh to see me plug a Boche a half a mile away.
Oh I hold the highest record in the regiment, they say.
And at night they gather round me, and I tell them of my roaming
In the Country of the Crepuscule beside the Frozen Sea,
Where the musk-ox runs unchallenged, and the cariboo goes homing;
And they sit like little children, just as quiet as can be:
Men of every crime and colour, how they harken unto me!
And I tell them of the Furland, of the tumpline and the paddle,
Of secret rivers loitering, that no one will explore;
And I tell them of the ranges, of the pack-strap and the saddle,
And they fill their pipes in silence, and their eyes beseech for more;
While above the star-shells fizzle and the high explosives roar.
And I tell of lakes fish-haunted, where the big bull moose are calling,
And forests still as sepulchres with never trail or track;
And valleys packed with purple gloom, and mountain peaks appalling,
And I tell them of my cabin on the shore at Fond du Lac;
And I find myself a-thinking: Sure I wish that I was back.
So I brag of bear and beaver while the batteries are roaring,
And the fellows on the firing steps are blazing at the foe;
And I yarn of fur and feather when the `marmites' are a-soaring,
And they listen to my stories, seven `poilus' in a row,
Seven lean and lousy poilus with their cigarettes aglow.
And I tell them when it's over how I'll hike for Athabaska;
And those seven greasy poilus they are crazy to go too.
And I'll give the wife the "pickle-tub" I promised, and I'll ask her
The price of mink and marten, and the run of cariboo,
And I'll get my traps in order, and I'll start to work anew.
For I've had my fill of fighting, and I've seen a nation scattered,
And an army swung to slaughter, and a river red with gore,
And a city all a-smoulder, and . . . as if it really mattered,
For the lake is yonder dreaming, and my cabin's on the shore;
And the dogs are leaping madly, and the wife is singing gladly,
And I'll rest in Athabaska, and I'll leave it nevermore.
Scheme | ABABB CDCED AFAFF BGBGA CHIIH AHAHH ABABB JEJEE AAAAA AGAGG AFCXF KEKEBE |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 101111111110101 10110101010101 0111111011111010 101001100110101 11011111010101 0010111111101010 111010100110101 1011111111101010 011010101110111 101001101010101 110111111101010 001111101111111 101111100011110 111110100010101 10111011110101 1010111011101010 111010100110111 1110101111111010 01110101111101 111110100101101 1110101001111010 00101011010101 0010111111010110 11111001110110 11010101010101 1111011011001 011111011101 11010100111101 01111101010101 111010010010011 0111101101111110 0010101010101 10111010001110 011110101110111 111001011110101 01111011010010 11010100111101 0111101010110010 011110100110111 101011100010101 0111111010111110 010111110111 010111010101010 011111101011111 01110101111111 1111101010100110 001010101110101 011110101011010 01101110101001 1010101110101 0111111011111 01101011110111 0110101011100110 011101000111 011110100111101 1111111001101010 011011100010111 001010101111010 10111010011101 0011101000111010 01101011110 |
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 3,843 |
Words | 725 |
Sentences | 33 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6 |
Lines Amount | 61 |
Letters per line (avg) | 47 |
Words per line (avg) | 12 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 239 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 60 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 30, 2023
- 3:42 min read
- 143 Views
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"The Man From Athabaska" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32586/the-man-from-athabaska>.
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