War
Shake, shake the earth with giant tread,Thou red-maned Titian bold;For every step a man lies dead,A cottage hearth is cold.Take up the babes with mailed hands,Transfix them with thy spears,Spare not the chaste young virgin-bands,Tho' blood may be their tears.
Beat down the corn, tear up the vine,The waters turn to blood;And if the wretch for bread doth whine,Give him his kin for food.Aye, strew the dead to saddle girth,They make so rich a mould,Thoul't thus enrich the wasted earth--They'll turn to yellow gold.
On with thy thunders, shot and shell,Send screaming, featly hurl'd;Science has made them in her cell,To civilize the world.Not, not alone where Christian menPant in the well-arm'd strife;But seek the jungle-throttled glen--The savage has a life.
He has a soul--so priests will say--Go! save it with thy sword;Thro' his rank forests force thy way,Thy war cry, "For the Lord!"Rip up his mines, and from his strandsWash out the gold with blood--Religion raises blessing hands,"War's evil worketh good!"
When striding o'er the conquer'd land,Silence thy rolling drum,And led by white-robed choiring bandsWith loud "Te Deum" come.Seek the grim chancel, on its wallThy blood-stiff banner hang;They lie who say thy blood is gall.Thy tooth the serpent's fang.
See! the white Christ is lifted high,Thy conqu'ring sword to bless;Smiles the pure monarch of the sky--Thy king can do no less.Drink deep with him the festal wine,Drink with him drop for drop;If, like the sun, his throne doth shine,Thou art that throne's prop.
If spectres wait upon the bowl,Thou needs not be afraid,Grin hell-hounds for thy bold black soul,His purple be thy shade.Go! feast with Commerce, be her spouse;She loves thee, thou art hers--For thee she decks her board and house.Then how may others curse
If she, mild-seeming matron, leansUpon thine iron neck,And leaves with thee her household scenesTo follow at thy beck--Bastard in brotherhood of kings,Their blood runs in thy veins,For them the crowns, the sword that swings,For thee to hew their chains.
For thee the rending of the prey--They, jackals to the lion,Tread after in the gory wayTrod by the mightier scion.O slave! that slayest other slaves,O'er vassals crowned, a king!War, build high thy throne with graves,High as the vulture's wing!
Words in this poem
- mailed a.
- Protected by an external coat, or covering, of scales or plates.
- transfix v. t.
- To pierce through, as with a pointed weapon; to impale; as, to transfix one with a dart. [L. transfixus, p. p. of transfigure to transfix; trans across, through + figere to fix, fasten. See Fix.]
- mould n.
- Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
- screaming a.
- Uttering screams; shrieking.
- featly adv.
- Neatly; dexterously; nimbly. [From Feat, a.]
- civilize v. t.
- To reclaim from a savage state; to instruct in the rules and customs of civilization; to educate; to refine. [Cf. F. civilizer, fr.L. civilis civil. See Civil.]
- pant v. i.
- To breathe quickly or in a labored manner, as after exertion or from eagerness or excitement; to respire with heaving of the breast; to gasp. [Cf. F. panteler to gasp for breath, OF. panteisier to be breathless, F. pantois out of breath; perh. akin to E. phantom, the verb prob. orig. meaning, to have t]
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- fang v. t.
- To catch; to seize, as with the teeth; to lay hold of; to gripe; to clutch. [OE. fangen, fongen, fon (g orig. only in p.p. and imp. tense), AS. f; akin to D. vangen, OHG. fahan, G. fahen, fangen, Isel. fa, Sw. f, f, Dan. fange, faae, Got]
- festal a.
- Of or pertaining to a holiday or a feast; joyous; festive. [L. festum holiday, feast. See feast.]
- needs adv.
- Of necessity; necessarily; indispensably; -- often with must, and equivalent to of need. [Orig. gen. of need, used as an adverb. Cf. - wards.]
- grin n.
- A snare; a gin. [AS. grin.]
- spouse v. t.
- To wed; to espouse. [See Espouse, and Spouse, n.]
- gory a.
- Covered with gore or clotted blood. [From Gore.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
War is in the public domain. This text is taken from Old Spookses' Pass, Malcolm's Katie, and other poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #6815; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Isabella Valancy Crawford, War, in Old Spookses' Pass, Malcolm's Katie and Other Poems (1884), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6815, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/crawford-poems/war.html, id L11181.
Form and metre
War is 72 lines in 9 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 6 of its 9 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.0 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 11% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCDCD treadA · boldB · deadA · coldB · handsC · spearsD · bandsC · tearsD
- 2 A-A-BCBC vineA · blood · whineA · food · girthB · mouldC · earthB · goldC
- 3 ABABCDCD shellA · hurl'dB · cellA · worldB · menC · strifeD · glenC · lifeD
- 4 ABABCDCD sayA · swordB · wayA · lordB · strandsC · bloodD · handsC · goodD
- 5 -A-ABCBC land · drumA · bands · comeA · wallB · hangC · gallB · fangC
- 6 ABABCDCD highA · blessB · skyA · lessB · wineC · dropD · shineC · propD
- 7 ABABC-C- bowlA · afraidB · soulA · shadeB · spouseC · hers · houseC · curse
- 8 ABABCDCD leansA · neckB · scenesA · beckB · kingsC · veinsD · swingsC · chainsD
- 9 ABABCDCD preyA · lionB · wayA · scionB · slavesC · kingD · gravesC · wingD
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Shake, shake the earth with giant tread, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Thou red-maned Titian bold; | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| For every step a man lies dead, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| A cottage hearth is cold. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Take up the babes with mailed hands, | 8 | ······˘· |
| Transfix them with thy spears, | 6 | ˘/···· |
| Spare not the chaste young virgin-bands, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Tho' blood may be their tears. | 6 | ······ |
| Beat down the corn, tear up the vine, | 8 | ········ |
| The waters turn to blood; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And if the wretch for bread doth whine, | 8 | ········ |
| Give him his kin for food. | 6 | ······ |
| Aye, strew the dead to saddle girth, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| They make so rich a mould, | 6 | ······ |
| Thoul't thus enrich the wasted earth-- | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| They'll turn to yellow gold. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| On with thy thunders, shot and shell, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Send screaming, featly hurl'd; | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| Science has made them in her cell, | 8 | /˘······ |
| To civilize the world. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Not, not alone where Christian men | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| Pant in the well-arm'd strife; | 6 | ······ |
| But seek the jungle-throttled glen-- | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| The savage has a life. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| He has a soul--so priests will say-- | 8 | ········ |
| Go! save it with thy sword; | 6 | ······ |
| Thro' his rank forests force thy way, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thy war cry, "For the Lord!" | 6 | ······ |
| Rip up his mines, and from his strands | 8 | ········ |
| Wash out the gold with blood-- | 6 | ······ |
| Religion raises blessing hands, | 8 | ˘/˘/˘/˘· |
| "War's evil worketh good!" | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| When striding o'er the conquer'd land, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Silence thy rolling drum, | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| And led by white-robed choiring bands | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| With loud "Te Deum" come. | 5 | ····· |
| Seek the grim chancel, on its wall | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thy blood-stiff banner hang; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| They lie who say thy blood is gall. | 8 | ········ |
| Thy tooth the serpent's fang. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| See! the white Christ is lifted high, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Thy conqu'ring sword to bless; | 7 | ······· |
| Smiles the pure monarch of the sky-- | 8 | ···/···· |
| Thy king can do no less. | 6 | ······ |
| Drink deep with him the festal wine, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Drink with him drop for drop; | 6 | ······ |
| If, like the sun, his throne doth shine, | 8 | ········ |
| Thou art that throne's prop. | 5 | ····· |
| If spectres wait upon the bowl, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Thou needs not be afraid, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Grin hell-hounds for thy bold black soul, | 8 | ········ |
| His purple be thy shade. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Go! feast with Commerce, be her spouse; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| She loves thee, thou art hers-- | 6 | ······ |
| For thee she decks her board and house. | 8 | ········ |
| Then how may others curse | 6 | ···/˘· |
| If she, mild-seeming matron, leans | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Upon thine iron neck, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And leaves with thee her household scenes | 8 | ·····/·· |
| To follow at thy beck-- | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Bastard in brotherhood of kings, | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| Their blood runs in thy veins, | 6 | ······ |
| For them the crowns, the sword that swings, | 8 | ········ |
| For thee to hew their chains. | 6 | ······ |
| For thee the rending of the prey-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| They, jackals to the lion, | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| Tread after in the gory way | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Trod by the mightier scion. | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| O slave! that slayest other slaves, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| O'er vassals crowned, a king! | 7 | ·/˘·˘·· |
| War, build high thy throne with graves, | 7 | ······· |
| High as the vulture's wing! | 6 | ···/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.