The Broken Men Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCE CFCFFGEH AIFIFHHH FJFKFLFL MFEFFFNF EHFHAOPO CEQERSFS TFFFFUCU TVCVEWAW

For things we never mentionA
For Art misunderstoodB
For excellent intentionA
That did not turn to goodB
From ancient tales' renewingC
From clouds we would not clearD
Beyond the Law's pursuingC
We fled and settled hereE
-
We took no tearful leavingC
We bade no long good byesF
Men talked of crime and thievingC
Men wrote of fraud and liesF
To save our injured feelingsF
'T was time and time to goG
Behind was dock and DartmoorE
Ahead lay CallaoH
-
The widow and the orphanA
That pray for ten per centI
They clapped their trailers on usF
To spy the road we wentI
They watched the foreign sailingsF
They scan the shipping stillH
And that's your Christian peopleH
Returning good for illH
-
God bless the thoughtfull islandsF
Where never warrants comeJ
God bless the just RepublicsF
That give a man a homeK
That ask no foolish questionsF
But set him on his feetL
And save his wife and daughtersF
From the workhouse and the streetL
-
On church and square and marketM
The noonday silence fallsF
You'll hear the drowsy mutterE
Of the fountain in our hallsF
Asleep amid the yuccasF
The city takes her easeF
Till twilight brings the land windN
To the clicking jalousiesF
-
Day long the diamond weatherE
The high unaltered blueH
The smell of goats and incenseF
And the mule bells tinkling throughH
Day long the warder oceanA
That keeps us from our kinO
And once a month our leveeP
When the English mail comes inO
-
You'll find us up and waitingC
To treat you at the barE
You'll find us less exclusiveQ
Than the average English areE
We'll meet you with a carriageR
Too glad to show you roundS
But we do not lunch on steamersF
For they are English groundS
-
We sail o' nights to EnglandT
And join our smiling BoardsF
Our wives go in with ViscountsF
And our daughters dance with LordsF
But behind our princely doingsF
And behind each coup we makeU
We feel there's Something WaitingC
And we meet It when we wakeU
-
Ah God One sniff of EnglandT
To greet our flesh and bloodV
To hear the traffic slurringC
Once more through London mudV
Our towns of wasted honourE
Our streets of lost delightW
How stands the old Lord WardenA
Are Dover's cliffs still whiteW

Rudyard Kipling



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