Analysis of The Siren
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
She sung a song; an' I sat silent there,
Wiv bofe 'ands grippin' 'ard on me chair;
Me 'eart, that yesterdee I thort wus broke
Wiv 'umpin sich a 'eavy load o' care,
Come swelling in me throat like I would choke.
I felt 'ot blushes climbin' to me 'air.
'Twas like that feelin' when the Spring wind breaves
Sad music in the sof'ly rustlin' leaves.
An' when a bloke sits down an' starts to chew
Crook thorts, wivout quite knowin' why 'e grieves
Fer things 'e's done 'e didn't ort to do
Fair winded wiv the 'eavy sighs 'e 'eaves.
She sung a song; an' orl at once I seen
The kind o' crool an' 'eartless broot I been.
In ev'ry word I read it like a book
The slanter game I'd played wiv my Doreen
I 'eard it in 'er song; an' in 'er look
I seen wot made me feel fair rotten mean.
Poor, 'urt Doreen! My tender bit o' fluff!
Ar, men don't understand; they're fur too rough;
Their ways is fur too coarse wiv lovin' tarts;
They never gives 'em symperthy enough.
They treats 'em 'arsh; they tramples on their 'earts,
Becos their own crool 'earts is leather-tough.
She sung a song; an' orl them bitter things
That chewin' over lovers' quarrils brings
Guv place to thorts of sorrer an' remorse.
Like when some dilly punter goes an' slings
'Is larst, lone deener on some stiffened 'orse,
An' learns them vain regrets wot 'urts an' stings.
'Twas at a beano where I lobs along
To drown them memories o' fancied wrong.
I swears I never knoo that she'd be there.
But when I met 'er eye—O, 'struth, 'twas strong!
'Twas bitter strong, that jolt o' dull despair!
'Er look o' scorn!…An' then, she sung a song.
The choon was one o' them sad, mournful things
That ketch yeh in the bellers 'ere, and brings
Tears to yer eyes. The words was uv a tart
'Oo's trackin' wiv a silly coot 'oo slings
'Er love aside, an' breaks 'er tender 'eart….
But 'twasn't that; it was the way she sings.
To 'ear 'er voice!…A bloke 'ud be a log
'Oo kep' 'is block. Me mind wus in a fog
Of sorrer for to think 'ow I wus wrong;
Ar, I 'ave been a fair ungrateful 'og!
The feelin' that she put into that song
'Ud melt the 'eart-strings of a chiner dog.
I listens wiv me 'eart up in me throat;
I drunk in ev'ry word an' ev'ry note.
Tears trembles in 'er voice when she tells 'ow
That tart snuffed out becos 'e never wrote.
An' then I seen 'ow I wus like that cow.
Wiv suddin shame me guilty soul wus smote.
Doreen she never looked my way; but stood
'Arf turned away, an' beefed it out reel good,
Until she sang that bit about the grave;
'Too late 'e learned 'e 'ad misunderstood!'
An' then—Gorstrooth! The pleadin' look she gave
Fair in me face 'ud melt a'eart o' wood.
I dunno 'ow I seen that evenin' thro'.
They muster thort I was 'arf shick, I knoo.
But I 'ad 'urt Doreen wivout no call;
I seen me dooty, wot I 'ad to do.
O, strike! I could 'a' blubbed before 'em all!
But I sat tight, an' never cracked a boo.
An' when at larst the tarts they makes a rise,
A lop-eared coot wiv 'air down to 'is eyes
'E 'ooks on to Doreen, an' starts to roam
Fer 'ome an' muvver. I lines up an' cries,
''An's orf! I'm seein' this 'ere cliner 'ome!'
An' there we left 'im, gapin' wiv surprise.
She never spoke; she never said no word;
But walked beside me like she never 'eard.
I swallers 'ard, an' starts to coax an' plead,
I sez I'm dead ashamed o' wot's occurred.
She don't reply; she never takes no 'eed;
Jist stares before 'er like a startled bird.
I tells 'er, never can no uvver tart
Be 'arf wot she is, if we 'ave to part.
I tells 'er that me life will be a wreck.
It ain't no go. But when I makes a start
To walk away, 'er arms is roun' me neck.
'Ah, Kid!' she sobs. 'Yeh nearly broke me 'eart!'
I dunno wot I done or wot I said.
But 'struth! I'll not forgit it till I'm dead
That night when 'ope back in me brisket lobs:
'Ow my Doreen she lays 'er little 'ead
Down on me shoulder 'ere, an' sobs an' sobs;
An' orl the lights goes sorter blurred an' red.
Say, square an' all—It don't seem right, some'ow,
To say such things; but wot I'm feelin' now
'As come at times, I s'pose, to uvver men
When you 'ave 'ad a reel ole ding-dong row,
Say, ain't it bonzer makin' up agen?
Straight wire, it's almost worth…Ar, I'm a cow!
To think I'd ever seek to 'arm a 'air
Of 'er dear 'ead agen! My oath, I swear
No more I'll roust on 'er in angry 'eat!
But still, she never seemed to me so fair;
She never wus so tender or so sweet
As when she smooged beneath th
Scheme | AABABA CCDCDC EXFEFE GGCGCG CCCCCC HHAHAH CCICIC JKHKHJ LLMLNI OOPOPO AEQDQD CCRCRC SIXSIS IITITI UUCICU MNXMEN AAVAVX |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101111101 11111111 11111111 11101111 1100111111 111101111 111110111 11000111 1101111111 11111111 1111110111 110101111 1101111111 011111111 011111101 011111101 1110011001 1111111101 1101110111 111011111 1111111101 11011101 1111110111 111111101 1101111101 11101011 111111101 1111010111 1111011101 1111011111 110111101 1111001101 1111011111 1111011111 1101111101 0111111101 0111111101 111001101 1111011101 111010111 0101110101 111110111 1101011101 1111111001 111111111 1111010101 011110111 110111011 1101111011 11011111 110011111 111111101 1111111111 111110111 0111011111 1101111111 0111110101 111111001 11101111 101111111 101111111 1101111111 111101111 111111111 1111010111 1111110101 1111011101 0111111111 1111011111 111111111 11111111 111111101 1101110111 1101111101 111111111 1111011101 1101110111 1101010101 110101111 1111111111 1101111101 1111111101 1101011111 1111110111 1011111111 111111111 1111101101 1101110101 1111011111 1101110111 1111111111 111111111 1111111111 1111011111 11111011 1101111101 1111011101 101111111 1111100101 1111011111 1101110111 11110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,312 |
Words | 875 |
Sentences | 60 |
Stanzas | 17 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 102 |
Letters per line (avg) | 31 |
Words per line (avg) | 9 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 187 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 52 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:30 min read
- 67 Views
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"The Siren" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6762/the-siren>.
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