Analysis of The Artilleryman's Vision
Walt Whitman 1819 (West Hills) – 1892 (Camden)
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long,
And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant midnight
passes,
And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the
breath of my infant,
There in the room, as I wake from sleep, this vision presses upon me:
The engagement opens there and then, in fantasy unreal;
The skirmishers begin--they crawl cautiously ahead--I hear the
irregular snap! snap!
I hear the sounds of the different missiles--the short t-h-t! t-h-t!
of the rifle balls;
I see the shells exploding, leaving small white clouds--I hear the
great shells shrieking as they pass;
The grape, like the hum and whirr of wind through the trees, (quick,
tumultuous, now the contest rages!)
All the scenes at the batteries themselves rise in detail before me
again; 10
The crashing and smoking--the pride of the men in their pieces;
The chief gunner ranges and sights his piece, and selects a fuse of
the right time;
After firing, I see him lean aside, and look eagerly off to note the
effect;
--Elsewhere I hear the cry of a regiment charging--(the young colonel
leads himself this time, with brandish'd sword;)
I see the gaps cut by the enemy's volleys, (quickly fill'd up, no
delay;)
I breathe the suffocating smoke--then the flat clouds hover low,
concealing all;
Now a strange lull comes for a few seconds, not a shot fired on
either side;
Then resumed, the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls, and
orders of officers;
While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my ears a
shout of applause, (some special success;)
And ever the sound of the cannon, far or near, (rousing, even in
dreams, a devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the
depths of my soul;) 20
And ever the hastening of infantry shifting positions--batteries,
cavalry, moving hither and thither;
(The falling, dying, I heed not--the wounded, dripping and red, I
heed not--some to the rear are hobbling;)
Grime, heat, rush--aid-de-camps galloping by, or on a full run;
With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles,
(these in my vision I hear or see,)
And bombs busting in air, and at night the vari-color'd rockets.
Scheme | ABCDEFGDHFIDJKLFMCNODPQRSTSUVWXYDZ1 D2 3 4 5 6 7 8 F9 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111111000011101 011101011100101 10 0101010111110 11110 10011111111010011 001010101010001 01011110001110 010011 1101101001001111111 10101 110101010111110 1110111 0110101111011 100101010 10110100011001011 01 010010011010110 0110100111001011 011 1010111101011001110 01 1110110100100110 101111101 11011101001010111 01 11010011011101 0101 1011110110101101 101 1010101011011010 101100 1111011010111110 110111001 01001101011110100 1010101011100 1111 0100100110010010100 100101001 0101011101010011 1111011100 111111100111011 10101110101111010 101101111 0110010110101010 |
Closest metre | Iambic hexameter |
Characters | 2,495 |
Words | 390 |
Sentences | 7 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 45 |
Lines Amount | 45 |
Letters per line (avg) | 37 |
Words per line (avg) | 11 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,678 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 476 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 14, 2023
- 1:58 min read
- 139 Views
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"The Artilleryman's Vision" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/38164/the-artilleryman%27s-vision>.
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