A Curse For Kings Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCB DEFE GHIH JKLK MNON PQRQ STUT ENNN VGWX YXXX ZYXY| A curse upon each king who leads his state | A |
| No matter what his plea to this foul game | B |
| And may it end his wicked dynasty | C |
| And may he die in exile and black shame | B |
| - | |
| If there is vengeance in the Heaven of Heavens | D |
| What punishment could Heaven devise for these | E |
| Who fill the rivers of the world with dead | F |
| And turn their murderers loose on all the seas | E |
| - | |
| Put back the clock of time a thousand years | G |
| And make our Europe once the world's proud Queen | H |
| A shrieking strumpet furious fratricide | I |
| Eater of entrails wallowing obscene | H |
| - | |
| In pits where millions foam and rave and bark | J |
| Mad dogs and idiots thrice drunk with strife | K |
| While Science towers above a witch red winged | L |
| Science we looked to for the light of life | K |
| - | |
| Curse me the men who make and sell iron ships | M |
| Who walk the floor in thought that they may find | N |
| Each powder prompt each steel with fearful edge | O |
| Each deadliest device against mankind | N |
| - | |
| Curse me the sleek lords with their plumes and spurs | P |
| May Heaven give their land to peasant spades | Q |
| Give them the brand of Cain for their pride's sake | R |
| And felon's stripes for medals and for braids | Q |
| - | |
| Curse me the fiddling twiddling diplomats | S |
| Haggling here plotting and hatching there | T |
| Who make the kind world but their game of cards | U |
| Till millions die at turning of a hair | T |
| - | |
| What punishment will Heaven devise for these | E |
| Who win by others' sweat and hardihood | N |
| Who make men into stinking vultures' meat | N |
| Saying to evil still Be thou my good | N |
| - | |
| Ah he who starts a million souls toward death | V |
| Should burn in utmost hell a million years | G |
| Mothers of men go on the destined wrack | W |
| To give them life with anguish and with tears | X |
| - | |
| Are all those childbed sorrows sneered away | Y |
| Yea fools laugh at the humble christenings | X |
| And cradle joys are mocked of the fat lords | X |
| These mothers' sons made dead men for the Kings | X |
| - | |
| All in the name of this or that grim flag | Z |
| No angel flags in all the rag array | Y |
| Banners the demons love and all Hell sings | X |
| And plays wild harps Those flags march forth to day | Y |
Vachel Lindsay
(1)
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