Bullets Poem Rhyme Scheme

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As bullets come to us they're thin	A
They're angular or smooth and fat	B
Some spiral are and gimlet in	A
And some are sharp and others flat	B
The slim one pink you clean and neat	C
The flat ones bat a solid blow	D
Much as a camel throws his feet	C
And leave you beastly incomplete	C
If lucky you don't know it through	E
	-
The flitting bullets flow and flock	F
They twitter as they pass	G
They're picking at the solid rock	F
They're rooting in the grass	G
A tiny ballet swiftly throws	H
Its gossamer of rust	I
Brown fairies on their little toes	H
A dancing in the dust	I
	-
You cower down when first they come	J
With snaky whispers at your ear	K
And when like swarming bees they hum	J
You know the tinkling chill of fear	L
A whining thing will pluck your heel	M
A whirring insect sting your shin	A
You shrink to half your size and feel	M
The ripples o'er your body seal	M
'Tis terror walking in your skin	A
	-
The bullets pelt like winter hail	N
The whistle and they sigh	O
They shrill like cordage in a gale	N
Like mewing kittens cry	O
They hiss and spit they purring come	J
Or silent all a span	P
They rap as on a slackened drum	J
The dab that kills a man	P
	-
Rage takes you next All hot your face	Q
The bitter void and curses leap	R
From pincered teeth The wide still space	Q
Whence all these leaden devil's sweep	R
Is Tophet Fiends by day and night	S
Are groping for your heart to sate	T
In blood their diabolic spite	S
You shoot in idiot delight	S
Each winging slug a hymn of hate	T
	-
The futile bullets scratch and go	D
They chortle and the coo	E
I laugh my scorn for now I know	D
The thing they cannot do	E
They flit like midges in the sun	U
But howso thick they be	V
What matter since there is not one	U
That God has marked for me	V
	-
An Eastern old philosophy	V
Come home at length and passion stills	W
The thing will be that is to be	V
And all must come as Heaven wills	W
Where in the swelter and the flame	X
The new hot shining bullets drip	Y
One in the many has an aim	X
Inwove a visage and a name	X
No man may give his fate the slip	Y
	-
The bullets thrill along the breeze	Z
They drum upon the bags	A2
They tweak your ear your hair they tease	Z
And peck your sleeve to rags	A2
Their voices may no more annoy	B2
I chortle at the call	C2
The bullet that is mine my boy	B2
I shall not hear at all	C2
	-
The war's a flutter very like	D2
The tickets that we took from Tatt	E
Quite possibly I'll make a strike	D2
The odds are all opposed to that	E
Behind the dawn the Furies sway	E2
The mighty globe from which to get	E
Those bullets which throughout the day	E2
Will winners be to break or slay	E2
I have not struck a starter yet	E
	-
The busy bullets rise and flock	F
They whistle as they pass	G
They're chipping at the solid rock	F
They're skipping in the grass	G
Out there the tiny dancers throw	D
Their sober skirts of rust	E
Brown flitting figures tipping toe	D
Along the golden dust	E

Edward George Dyson

Bullets Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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