Grass From The Battle-field Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCBD CADCEEFFFGGHIJKHIJKL FLLFMNMLLMNOLPLFLQQL RLSRLTLLLTTUU RVWFXLLVYZZYMTTMOOO FLFLA2QQA2LODO LLLLLB2B2LZC2LLC2LD2 C2C2C2D2C2D2LLE2F2G2 C2D2C2LLD2D2LC2LL LHC2HLC2C2 H2I2I2MC2I2MI2C2 LLLLLLLLLDDYY YFFLL LJ2I2I2J2L K2LK2L2L2L I2I2DDLC2I2LC2LLLC2F M2I2I2LFM2LI2FN2LLN2 O2O2N2O2LLMI2I2MFFLL LI2Small sheaf | A |
Of withered grass that hast not yet revealed | B |
Thy story lo I see thee once more green | C |
And growing on the battle field | B |
On that last day that ever thou didst grow | D |
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I look down thro' thy blades and see between | C |
A little lifted clover leaf | A |
Stand like a cresset and I know | D |
If this were morn there should be seen | C |
In its chalice such a gem | E |
As decks no mortal diadem | E |
Poised with a lapidary skill | F |
Which merely living doth fulfil | F |
And pass the exquisite strain of subtlest human will | F |
But in the sun it lifteth up | G |
A dry unjewelled cup | G |
Therefore I see that day doth not begin | H |
And yet I know its beaming lord | I |
Hath not yet passed the hill of noon | J |
Or thy lush blades | K |
Would be more dry and thin | H |
And every blade a thirsty sword | I |
Edged with the sharp desire that soon | J |
Should draw the silver blood of all the shades | K |
I feel 't is summer This whereon I stand | L |
Is not a hill nor as I think a vale | F |
The soil is soft upon the generous land | L |
Yet not as where the meeting streams take hand | L |
Under the mossy mantle of the dale | F |
Such grass is for the meadow If I try | M |
To lift my heavy eyelids as in dreams | N |
A power is on them and I know not why | M |
Thou art but part the whole is unconfest | L |
Beholding thee I long to know the rest | L |
As one expands the bosom with a sigh | M |
I stretch my sight's horizon but it seems | N |
Ere it can widen round the mystery | O |
To close in swift contraction like the breast | L |
The air is held as by a charm | P |
In an enforc d silence as like sound | L |
As the dead man the living 'T is so still | F |
I listen for it loud | L |
And when I force my eyes from thy sole place | Q |
And see a wider space | Q |
Above around | L |
In ragged glory like a torn | R |
And golden natured cloud | L |
O'er the dim field a living smoke is warm | S |
As in a city on a sabbath morn | R |
The hot and summer sunshine goes abroad | L |
Swathed in the murky air | T |
As if a god | L |
Enrobed himself in common flesh and blood | L |
Our heavy flesh and blood | L |
And here and there | T |
As unaware | T |
Thro' the dull lagging limbs of mortal make | U |
That keep unequal time the swifter essence brake | U |
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But hark a bugle horn | R |
And ere it ceases such a shock | V |
As if the plain were iron and thereon | W |
An iron hammer heavy as a hill | F |
Swung by a monstrous force in stroke came down | X |
And deafened Heaven I feel a swound | L |
Of every sense bestunned | L |
The rent ground seems to rock | V |
And all the definite vision in such wise | Y |
As a dead giant borne on a swift river | Z |
Seems sliding off for ever | Z |
When my reviving eyes | Y |
As one that holds a spirit by his eye | M |
With set inexorable stare | T |
Fix thee and so I catch as by the hair | T |
The form of that great dream that else had drifted by | M |
I know not what that form may be | O |
The lock I hold is all I see | O |
And thou small sheaf art all the battle field to me | O |
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The wounded silence hath not time to heal | F |
When see upon thy sod | L |
The round stroke of a charger's heel | F |
With echoing thunder shod | L |
As the night lightning shows | A2 |
A mole upon a momentary face | Q |
So as that gnarled hoof strikes the indented place | Q |
I see it and it goes | A2 |
And I hear the squadrons trot thro' the heavy shell and shot | L |
And wheugh but the grass is gory | O |
Forward ho blow to blow at the foe in they go | D |
And 'tis hieover heigho for glory | O |
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The rushing storm is past | L |
But hark upon its track the far drums beat | L |
And all the earth that at thy roots thou hast | L |
Stirs shakes shocks sounds with quick strong tramp of feet | L |
In time unlike the last | L |
Footing to tap of drum | B2 |
The charging columns come | B2 |
And as they come their mighty martial sound | L |
Blows on before them as a flaming fire | Z |
Blows in the wind for as old Mars in ire | C2 |
Strode o'er the world encompassed in a cloud | L |
So the swift legion o'er the quaking ground | L |
Strode in a noise of battle Nigh and nigher | C2 |
I heard it like the long swell gathering loud | L |
What time a land wind blowing from the main | D2 |
Blows to the burst of fury and is o'er | C2 |
As if an ocean on one fatal shore | C2 |
Fell in a moment whole and threw its roar | C2 |
Whole to the further sea and as the strain | D2 |
Of my strong sense cracked in the deafened ear | C2 |
And all the rushing tumult of the plain | D2 |
Topped its great arch above me a swift foot | L |
Was struck between thy blades to the struck root | L |
And lifted as into a sheath | E2 |
A sudden sword is thrust and drawn again | F2 |
Ere one can gasp a breath | G2 |
I was so near | C2 |
I saw the wrinkles of the leather grain | D2 |
The very cobbler's stitches and the wear | C2 |
By which I knew the wearer trod not straight | L |
An honest shoe it seemed that had been good | L |
To mete the miles of any country lane | D2 |
Nor did one sign explain | D2 |
'T was made to wade thro' blood | L |
My shoe soft footstooled on this hearth so far | C2 |
From strife hath such a patch and as he past | L |
His broken shoelace whipt his eager haste | L |
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An honest shoe good faith that might have stood | L |
Upon the threshold of a village inn | H |
And welcomed all the world or by the byre | C2 |
And barn gone peaceful till the day closed in | H |
And scraped at eve upon some homely gate | L |
Ah Heaven might sit beside a cottage fire | C2 |
And touch the lazy log to softer flames than war | C2 |
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Long long thou wert alone | H2 |
I thought thy days were done | I2 |
Flat as ignoble grass that lies out mown | I2 |
By peaceful hands in June I saw thee lie | M |
A worm crawled o'er thee and the gossamer | C2 |
That telegraphs Queen Mab to Oberon | I2 |
Lengthening his living message passed thee by | M |
But rain fell and thy strawed blades one by one | I2 |
Began to stir and stir | C2 |
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And as some moorland bird | L |
Whom the still hunter's stalking steps have stirred | L |
When he stands mute and nothing more is heard | L |
With slow succession and reluctant art | L |
Grows upward from her bed | L |
Each move a muffled start | L |
And thro' the silent autumn covert red | L |
Uplifts a throbbing head | L |
That times the ambushed hunter's thudding heart | L |
Or as a snow drop bending low | D |
Beneath a flake of other snow | D |
Thaws to its height when spring winds melt the skies | Y |
And drip by drip doth mete a measured rise | Y |
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Or as the eyelids of a child's fair eyes | Y |
Lift from her lower lashes slow and pale | F |
To arch the wonder of a fairy tale | F |
So thro' the western light | L |
I saw thee slowly rearing to thy height | L |
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Then when thou hadst regained thy state | L |
And while a meadow spider with three lines | J2 |
Enschemed thy three tall pillars green | I2 |
And made the enchanted air between | I2 |
Mortal with shining signs | J2 |
For the loud carrion flies were many and late | L |
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Betwixt thy blades and stems | K2 |
There fell a hand | L |
Soft small and white and ringed with gold and gems | K2 |
And on those stones of price | L2 |
I saw a proud device | L2 |
And words I could not understand | L |
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Idly one by one | I2 |
The knots of anguish came undone | I2 |
The fingers stretched as from a cramp of woe | D |
And sweet and slow | D |
Moved to gracious shapes of rest | L |
Like a curl of soft pale hair | C2 |
Drying in the sun | I2 |
And then they spread | L |
And sought a wonted greeting in the air | C2 |
And strayed | L |
Between thy blades and with each blade | L |
As with meeting fingers played | L |
And tresses long and fair | C2 |
Then again at placid length it lay | F |
Stretched as to kisses of accustomed lips | M2 |
And again in sudden strain | I2 |
Sprang falling clenched with pain | I2 |
Till the knuckles white | L |
Thro' the evening gray | F |
Whitened and whitened as the snowy tips | M2 |
Of far hills glimmer thro' the night | L |
But who shall tell that agony | I2 |
That beat thee beat thee into bloody clay | F |
Red as the sards and rubies of the rings | N2 |
As when a bird fast by the fowler's net | L |
A moment doth forget | L |
His fetters and with desperate wings | N2 |
A sudden springs and falls | O2 |
And while from happy clouds the skylark calls | O2 |
Still feebler springs | N2 |
And fainter falls | O2 |
And still untamed upon the gory ground | L |
With failing strength renews his deadly wound | L |
At length the struggle ceased and my fixed eye | M |
Perceived that every finger wan | I2 |
Did quiver like the quivering fan | I2 |
Of a dying butterfly | M |
Nor long I watched until | F |
Even the humming in the air was still | F |
Then I gazed and gazed | L |
Nor once my aching eyeballs raised | L |
Till a poor bird that had a meadow nest | L |
Came down | I2 |
Sydney Thompson Dobell
(1)
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