Analysis of The Exiles' Line
Rudyard Kipling 1865 (Mumbai) – 1936 (London)
Now the new year reviving old desires,
The restless soul to open sea aspires,
Where the Blue Peter flickers from the fore,
And the grimed stoker feeds the engine-fires.
Coupons, alas, depart with all their rows,
And last year's sea-met loves where Grindley knows;
But still the wild wind wakes off Gardafui,
And hearts turn eastward with the P. and O's.
Twelve knots an hour, be they more or less -
Oh slothful mother of much idleness,
Whom neither rivals spur nor contracts speed!
Nay, bear us gently! Wherefore need we press?
The Tragedy of all our East is laid
On those white decks beneath the awning shade -
Birth, absence, longing, laughter, love and tears,
And death unmaking ere the land is made.
And midnight madnesses of souls distraught
Whom the cool seas call through the open port,
So that the table lacks one place next morn,
And for one forenoon men forego their sport.
The shadow of the rigging to and fro
Sways, shifts, and flickers on the spar-deck's snow,
And like a giant trampling in his chains,
The screw-blades gasp and thunder deep below;
And, leagued to watch one flying-fish's wings,
Heaven stoops to sea, and sea to Heaven clings;
While, bent upon the ending of his toil,
The hot sun strides, regarding not these things:
For the same wave that meets our stem in spray
Bore Smith of Asia eastward yesterday,
And Delhi Jones and Brown of Midnapore
To-morrow follow on the self-same way.
Linked in the chain of Empire one by one,
Flushed with long leave, or tanned with many a sun,
The Exiles' Line brings out the exiles line
And ships them homeward when their work is done.
Yea, heedless of the shuttle through the loom,
The flying keels fulfil the web of doom.
Sorrow or shouting; what is that to them?
Make out the cheque that pays for cabin room!
And how so many score of times ye flit
With wife and babe and caravan of kit,
Not all thy travels past shall lower one fare,
Not all thy tears abate one pound of it.
And how so high throe earth-born dignity,
Honour and state, go sink it in the sea,
Till that great one upon the quarter deck,
Brow-bound with gold, shall give thee leave to be.
Indeed, indeed from that same line we swear
Off for all time, and mean it when we swear;
And then, and then we meet the Quartered Flag,
And, surely for the last time, pay the fare.
And Green of Kensington, estray ed to view
In three short months the world he never knew,
Stares with blind eyes upon the Quartered
Flag And sees no more than yellow, red and blue.
But we, the gypsies of the East, but we
Waifs of the land and wastrels of the sea
Come nearer home beneath the Quartered Flag
Than ever home shall come to such as we.
The camp is struck, the bungalow decays,
Dead friends and houses desert mark our ways,
Till sickness send us down to Prince's Dock
To meet the changeless use of many days.
Bound in the wheel of Empire, one by one,
The chain-gangs of the East from sire to son,
The Exiles' Line takes out the exiles line
And ships them homeward when their work is done.
How runs the old indictment? Dear and slow,
So much and twice so much. We gird, but go.
For all the soul of our sad East is there,
Beneath the house-flag of the P. and O.
Scheme | aabaccdc exfe ggxg xhxh iixi jjxj kkbk llmL nnxn oopo qqxq pprp dsfs qqrq ttxt llmL iipi |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10110101010 01011101010 1011010101 00110101010 101011111 0111111101 11011111 0111010101 1111011111 111011100 110101111 111101111 01001110111 1111010101 1101010101 01110111 0111101 1011110101 1101011111 011110111 011010101 1101010111 0101010011 0111010101 0111110101 10111011101 1101010111 0111010111 10111110101 111101010 01010111 1101010111 10011100111 11111111001 01111011 0111011111 111010101 010110111 1011011111 1101111101 0111011111 110101011 11110111011 1111011111 0111111100 101111001 1111010101 1111111111 0101111111 1111011111 010111011 0101011101 0111001111 0111011101 11110101 10111110101 1101010111 110101101 110101011 1101111111 011101001 11010101101 1101111101 110111101 10011100111 01110111011 01111011 0111011111 1101010101 1101111111 11011101111 0101110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 3,124 |
Words | 593 |
Sentences | 26 |
Stanzas | 17 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 72 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 145 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 35 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 12, 2023
- 2:59 min read
- 138 Views
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"The Exiles' Line" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/33421/the-exiles%27-line>.
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