Analysis of The Broken Men
Rudyard Kipling 1865 (Mumbai) – 1936 (London)
For things we never mention,
For Art misunderstood --
For excellent intention
That did not turn to good;
From ancient tales' renewing,
From clouds we would not clear --
Beyond the Law's pursuing
We fled, and settled here.
We took no tearful leaving,
We bade no long good-byes;
Men talked of crime and thieving,
Men wrote of fraud and lies.
To save our injured feelings
'T was time and time to go --
Behind was dock and Dartmoor,
Ahead lay Callao!
The widow and the orphan
That pray for ten per cent,
They clapped their trailers on us
To spy the road we went.
They watched the foreign sailings
(They scan the shipping still),
And that's your Christian people
Returning good for ill!
God bless the thoughtfull islands
Where never warrants come;
God bless the just Republics
That give a man a home,
That ask no foolish questions,
But set him on his feet;
And save his wife and daughters
From the workhouse and the street!
On church and square and market
The noonday silence falls;
You'll hear the drowsy mutter
Of the fountain in our halls.
Asleep amid the yuccas
The city takes her ease --
Till twilight brings the land-wind
To the clicking jalousies.
Day long the diamond weather,
The high, unaltered blue --
The smell of goats and incense
And the mule-bells tinkling through.
Day long the warder ocean
That keeps us from our kin,
And once a month our levee
When the English mail comes in.
You'll find us up and waiting
To treat you at the bar;
You'll find us less exclusive
Than the average English are.
We'll meet you with a carriage,
Too glad to show you round,
But -- we do not lunch on steamers,
For they are English ground.
We sail o' nights to England
And join our smiling Boards --
Our wives go in with Viscounts
And our daughters dance with Lords,
But behind our princely doings,
And behind each coup we make,
We feel there's Something Waiting,
And -- we meet It when we wake.
Ah God! One sniff of England --
To greet our flesh and blood --
To hear the traffic slurring
Once more through London mud!
Our towns of wasted honour --
Our streets of lost delight!
How stands the old Lord Warden?
Are Dover's cliffs still white?
Scheme | ABABCDCX CECEEXDF AGEGEFFF EXEXEHEH XEIEEEXE IFEXAJXJ CKXKXLEL MEEEENCN MOCODPAP |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111010 11001 1100010 111111 1101010 111111 0101010 110101 1111010 111111 1111010 111101 11101010 1110111 011101 0111 0100010 111111 1111011 110111 110101 110101 0111010 010111 110110 110101 1101010 110101 1111010 111111 0111010 101001 1101010 01101 1101010 10100101 010101 010101 111011 10101 1101010 010101 0111001 00111001 1101010 1111101 01011010 1010110 1111010 111101 1111010 10100101 1111010 111111 11111110 111101 1111110 0110101 10110110 01010111 101101010 0011111 1111010 0111111 1111110 1110101 1101010 111101 1011101 1011101 1101110 110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,139 |
Words | 393 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 72 |
Letters per line (avg) | 23 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 184 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 43 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 11, 2023
- 2:00 min read
- 277 Views
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"The Broken Men" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/33381/the-broken-men>.
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