Analysis of A Freak of Spring
At any other time of year
It might have passed, but Spring is queer.
He says somethin' - I dunno
Somethin' nasty. I says, 'Ho!'
'Ho, yourself!' he says, an' glares.
I says nothin' - only stares.
'Coot!' says he . . . Then up she goes!
An' I land him on the nose.
It was Spring, Spring, Spring! Just to hear the thrushes sing
Would make a fellow laugh, or love, or fight like anything.
Which mood called I wasn't carin'; I was feelin' fine an' darin';
So I fetches him a beauty with a lovely left-arm swing.
Ben Murray staggered back a bit an' howled a wicked word
Which gave me feelin's of great joy . . . An' that's how it occurred.
'On the sawdust!' yells old Pike,
Gloatin' and bloodthirsty-like.
'On the sawdust with yeh both!
Truth to tell, I'm nothin' loth.
I peel off my coat an' vest.
Murray, with his rage suppressed,
Comes up eager, pale with spite.
'Glory!' shouts old Pike. 'A fight!'
It was Spring, glad Spring, an' the swallows on the wing
Made a man feel kind an' peaceful with their cheery twittering.
As I watched their graceful wheelin' with a pleasant sort of feelin'
Old man Pike pulled out his ticker, an' the mill-hands made a ring.
There was gold upon the wattle an' the blackwood was in bud,
An' I felt the call for action fairly sizzin' in my blood.
Murray comes on like a bull;
Both his eyes with spleen are full.
Let him have it - left an' right. . . .
Pike is bustin' with delight. . . .
Right eye once and left eye twice
Then he grabs me like a vice. . . .
Down into the dust we go
Bull-dog grip and short-arm blow.
It was Spring! Mad Spring! Just to feel him clutch an' cling
Told me plain that life was pelendid an' my strength a precious thing.
On the sawdust heap we scrambled, while the fellows yelled an' gambled
On the fight; an' Ben loosed curse-words in a never-endin' string.
Oh, I glimpsed the soft sky shinin' and I smelled the fresh-cut wood;
An' as we rolled I pummelled him, an' knew the world was good.
''Tain't a dog-fight!' shouts Bob Blair.
'Stand up straight an' fight it fair.'
I get end-up with a grin.
'Time!' yells Pike, an' bangs a tin.
'Corners, boys. A minute's spell.'
'Good lad, Jim! You're doin' well,'
Says the little Dusty, Dick. . . .
Murray's eye is closin' quick.
It was Spring, sweet Spring, an' a man must have his fling:
Healthy men must be respondin' to the moods the seasons bring.
That sweet air, with scrub scents laden, all my body was invadin',
Till each breath I drew within me made me feel I was king.
'Twas the season to be doin' - fondlin' maids, or fightin' men -
An' I felt my spirit yearnin' for another crack at Ben.
Pike bangs on his tin again.
'Time!' he roars. 'Get to it, men!'
I come eager, fit to dance;
Ben spars cautious for a chance.
With a laugh I flick him light;
Then - like lightin' comes his right
Full an' fair upon the jaw
Lord, the purple stars I saw!
It was Spring, wild Spring! When I felt the sudden sting
Of a clout all unexpected, I was just a maddened thing -
Just a savage male thing ragin'; battle all my wits engagin'.
Instant I was up an' at him, an' I punched him round the ring.
I forgot the scents an' season; I lost count of time an' place;
An' my only aim an' object was to batter Murray's face.
Pike is dancin' wild with joy;
Dusty Dick howls, 'At him, boy!'
I am at him, fast an' hard.
Then, as Murray drops his guard,
I get in one, strong an' straight,
Full of emnity an' weight.
Down he goes; the fellows shout.
'One!' starts Pike, then. . . 'Ten - an' out!'
It was Spring, gay Spring. Still were swallows on the wing,
An', on a sudden, once again I heard the thrushes sing.
There was gold upon the wattle, an' my recent wish to throttle
Murray, as he lay there groain', was a far-forgotten thing.
In the soft blue sky were sailin' little clouds as fine as fluff.
'Wantin' more?' I asked him gently; but Ben Murray said, 'Enough.'
'Well done, Jim,' says old Bob Blair.
''Tis the brave deserves the fair.'
An' he laughs an' winks at Pike
In a way that I don't like.
Widders,' grins young Dusty Dick,
'Likes a bloke whose hands is quick.
Now poor Ben can take the sack.'
But I frowns, an' turns my back.
It was Spring, the fickle Spring; an' a most amazin' thing
Came upon me sudden-like an' set me marvellin'.
For no longer was I lookin' for a wife to do my cookin',
But for somethin' sweet and tender of the kind that kiss an' cl
Scheme | AABBCCDD EEFEGG HHXXIIJJ EEBEKK LLJJMMBB EEXENN OOFFPPQQ EEBERR RRSSJJTT EEBEUU VVWWXXYY EEXEZZ OOHHQQ1 1 EBBL |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11010111 11111111 111101 110111 1011111 1110101 1111111 1111101 111111110101 1101011111110 111110101111110 111010101010111 11010101110101 1111111111101 101111 10101 101111 1111101 1111111 1011101 1110111 1011101 111111010101 1011111011101 11111011010111 111111101011101 11101010101101 11101110101011 1011101 1111111 1111111 1110101 1110111 1111101 1010111 1110111 111111111111 11111111110101 101111010101110 10111111001011 11101110110111 1111111110111 1011111 1111111 1111101 1111101 1010101 111111 1010101 101111 111111011111 1011111010101 11111110111011 11111011111111 101011111111 11111011010111 1111101 1111111 1110111 1110101 1011111 111111 1110101 1010111 111111110101 1011010111011 10101110101111 101111111111101 101011101111111 111011101110101 111111 1011111 1111111 1110111 1101111 11111 1110101 1111111 111111010101 11010101110101 1110101011101110 10111111010101 00111011011111 11111101110101 1111111 1010101 1111111 0011111 111101 1011111 1111101 1111111 111010110111 10111011111 11101111011111 11110101011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,274 |
Words | 841 |
Sentences | 100 |
Stanzas | 14 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 6, 8, 6, 8, 6, 8, 6, 8, 6, 8, 6, 8, 4 |
Lines Amount | 96 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 227 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 61 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:08 min read
- 108 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"A Freak of Spring" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6140/a-freak-of-spring>.
Discuss this Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In