A Ballad Of Footmen Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AB CC DD EF GG HH II JJ KL MM DH NN OO IP QR SS TU VV GG SS WW XX YY ZZ| Now what in the name of the sun and the stars | A |
| Is the meaning of this most unholy of wars | B |
| - | |
| Do men find life so full of humour and joy | C |
| That for want of excitement they smash up the toy | C |
| - | |
| Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses | D |
| All bent upon killing because their of courses | D |
| - | |
| Are not quite the same All these men by the ears | E |
| And nine nations of women choking with tears | F |
| - | |
| It is folly to think that the will of a king | G |
| Can force men to make ducks and drakes of a thing | G |
| - | |
| They value and life is at least one supposes | H |
| Of some little interest even if roses | H |
| - | |
| Have not grown up between one foot and the other | I |
| What a marvel bureaucracy is which can smother | I |
| - | |
| Such quite elementary feelings and tag | J |
| A man with a number and set him to wag | J |
| - | |
| His legs and his arms at the word of command | K |
| Or the blow of a whistle He's certainly damned | L |
| - | |
| Fit only for mince meat if a little gold lace | M |
| And an upturned moustache can set him to face | M |
| - | |
| Bullets and bayonets and death and diseases | D |
| Because some one he calls his Emperor pleases | H |
| - | |
| If each man were to lay down his weapon and say | N |
| With a click of his heels I wish you Good day | N |
| - | |
| Now what may I ask could the Emperor do | O |
| A king and his minions are really so few | O |
| - | |
| Angry Oh of course a most furious Emperor | I |
| But the men are so many they need not mind his temper or | P |
| - | |
| The dire results which could not be inflicted | Q |
| With no one to execute sentence convicted | R |
| - | |
| Is just the weak wind from an old broken bellows | S |
| What lackeys men are who might be such fine fellows | S |
| - | |
| To be killing each other unmercifully | T |
| At an order as though one said Bring up the tea | U |
| - | |
| Or is it that tasting the blood on their jaws | V |
| They lap at it drunk with its ferment and laws | V |
| - | |
| So patiently builded are nothing to drinking | G |
| More blood any blood They don't notice its stinking | G |
| - | |
| I don't suppose tigers do fighting cocks sparrows | S |
| And as to men what are men when their marrows | S |
| - | |
| Are running with blood they have gulped it is plain | W |
| Such excellent sport does not recollect pain | W |
| - | |
| Toll the bells in the steeples left standing Half mast | X |
| The flags which meant order for order is past | X |
| - | |
| Take the dust of the streets and sprinkle your head | Y |
| The civilization we've worked for is dead | Y |
| - | |
| Squeeze into this archway the head of the line | Z |
| Has just swung round the corner to 'Die Wacht am Rhein' | Z |
Amy Lowell
(1)
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A Ballad Of Footmen is a poem by Amy Lowell. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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