Analysis of The Song OF The Cities
Rudyard Kipling 1865 (Mumbai) – 1936 (London)
Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen
Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands --
A thousand mills roar through me where I glean
All races from all lands.
Me the Sea-captain loved, the River built,
Wealth sought and Kings adventured life to hold.
Hail, England! I am Asia -- Power on silt,
Death in my hands, but Gold!
Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow,
Wonderful kisses, so that I became
Crowned above Queens -- a withered beldame now,
Brooding on ancient fame.
Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade?
Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone,
And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid,
Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon.
Hail, Mother! East and West must seek my aid
Ere the spent gear may dare the ports afar.
The second doorway of the wide world's trade
Is mine to loose or bar.
Hail, Mother! Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps
Under innumerable keels to-day.
Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps
Thy war-ships down the bay!
Into the mist my guardian prows put forth,
Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie,
The Warden of the Honour of the North,
Sleepless and veiled am I!
QUEBEC AND MONTREAL
Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose,
Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate.
Now wake we and remember mighty blows,
And, fearing no man, wait!
From East to West the circling word has passed,
Till West is East beside our land-locked blue;
From East to West the tested chain holds fast,
The well-forged link rings true!
Hail! Snatched and bartered oft from hand to hand,
I dream my dream, by rock and heath and pine,
Of Empire to the northward. Ay, one land
From Lion's Head to Line!
Greeting! Nor fear nor favour won us place,
Got between greed of gold and dread of drouth,
Loud-voiced and reckless as the wild tide-race
That whips our harbour-mouth!
Greeting! My birth-stain have I turned to good;
Forcing strong wills perverse to steadfastness:
The first flush of the tropics in my blood,
And at my feet Success!
The northern stirp beneath the southern skies --
I build a Nation for an Empire's need,
Suffer a little, and my land shall rise,
Queen over lands indeed!
Man's love first found me; man's hate made me Hell;
For my babes' sake I cleansed those infamies.
Earnest for leave to live and labour well,
God flung me peace and ease.
Last, loneliest, loveliest, exquisite, apart --
On us, on us the unswerving season smiles,
Who wonder 'mid our fern why men depart
To seek the Happy Isles!
Scheme | ABAB CDCD EFEF GXGX GHGH IJIJ KLKL X MNMN OPOP QRQR SKSX XXXX TUTU VBVX WXWX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 100110101 1011011101 0101111111 110111 1011010101 11011111 11011101011 101111 1111010101 1001011101 101101011 101101 1101111101 1011110111 0111110111 111110 1101011111 1011110101 010110111 111111 110111111 1001000111 1101011101 111101 01011100111 010111011 010101101 100111 01001 11101010101 100110111 1110010101 010111 11110100111 11110110111 1111010111 011111 1101011111 1111110101 11001010111 110111 101111111 1011110111 1101010111 1110101 1011111111 101101110 0111010011 011101 0101010101 11010111001 1001001111 110101 1111111111 11111111 101111011 111101 11110001 11110010101 11011011101 110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,590 |
Words | 455 |
Sentences | 31 |
Stanzas | 16 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 61 |
Letters per line (avg) | 31 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 117 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 28 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 04, 2023
- 2:18 min read
- 109 Views
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"The Song OF The Cities" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/33568/the-song-of-the-cities>.
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