The Firing-line Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDBB EEBB FFBB GGBB HHBB| They are creeping on through the cornfields yet and they clamber amongst the rocks | A |
| Ere they rush to stab with the bayonet and smash with the rifle stocks | A |
| And many are wounded many are dead some reel as if drunk with wine | B |
| And fling them down on a blood stained bed and sleep in the firing line | B |
| And they dream perhaps of the days shut back while the shrapnel shrieks and crashes | C |
| And field guns hammer and rifles crack and the blood of a comrade splashes | D |
| In horrible shambles they rest a while from murder by right divine | B |
| They curse or jest and they frown or smile and they dream in the firing line | B |
| - | |
| In the dreadful din of a ghastly fight they are shooting murdering men | E |
| In the smothering silence of ghastly peace we murder with tongue and pen | E |
| Where is heard the tap of the typewriter where the track of reform they mine | B |
| Where they stand to the frame or the linotype we are all in the firingline | B |
| - | |
| Weary and parched in the world old war we are fighting with quivering nerves | F |
| The dead are our fathers who charged before and the children are our reserves | F |
| In the world old war with the world old wrongs that shall last while the stars still shine | B |
| My comrades and I who would sing their songs are all in the firing line | B |
| - | |
| There are some of us cowards who hug the ground and some of us reckless who jest | G |
| And some of us careless who slumber sound and some of us weary who rest | G |
| There are some of us dreamers whose beds seem soft and O heart O friend of mine | B |
| The brightest and bravest of earth too oft lie drunk in the firing line | B |
| - | |
| But the sleeper may wake ere the fort we storm and the coward be first to dare | H |
| And the weak grow strong and the drunkard reform and the dreamer strike hardest there | H |
| God give me strength in my country s need though shame and disgrace be mine | B |
| And death be certain to rise and lead when we charge from the firing line | B |
Henry Lawson
(1)
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About The Firing-line
The Firing-line is a poem by Henry Lawson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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