To Lucasta on Going to the War— For the Fourth Time
It doesn't matter what's the cause,What wrong they say we're righting,A curse for treaties, bonds and laws,When we're to do the fighting!And since we lads are proud and true,What else remains to do?Lucasta, when to France your manReturns his fourth time, hating war,Yet laughs as calmly as he canAnd flings an oath, but says no more,That is not courage, that's not fear--Lucasta he's a Fusilier,And his pride sends him here.
Let statesmen bluster, bark and bray,And so decide who startedThis bloody war, and who's to pay,But he must be stout-hearted,Must sit and stake with quiet breath,Playing at cards with Death.Don't plume yourself he fights for you;It is no courage, love, or hate,But let us do the things we do;It's pride that makes the heart be great;It is not anger, no, nor fear--Lucasta he's a Fusilier,And his pride keeps him here.
Words in this poem
- bray v. t.
- To pound, beat, rub, or grind small or fine. [OE. brayen, OF. breier, F. broyer to pound, grind, fr. OHG. brehhan to break. See Break.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To Lucasta on Going to the War— For the Fourth Time is in the public domain. This text is taken from Fairies and Fusiliers, Project Gutenberg ebook #10122; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Graves, To Lucasta on Going to the War— For the Fourth Time, in Fairies and Fusiliers (1917), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #10122, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/graves-fairies/to-lucasta-on-going-to-the-war-for-the-fourth-time.html, id L02412.
Form and metre
To Lucasta on Going to the War— For the Fourth Time is 26 lines in 2 stanzas of 13 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.5 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 12% 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 ABABCCDEDEF-F causeA · rightingB · lawsA · fightingB · trueC · doC · manD · warE · canD · moreE · fearF · fusilier · hereF
- 2 ABABCCDEDEF-F brayA · startedB · payA · heartedB · breathC · deathC · youD · hateE · doD · greatE · fearF · fusilier · hereF
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 |
|---|---|---|
| It doesn't matter what's the cause, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| What wrong they say we're righting, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| A curse for treaties, bonds and laws, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| When we're to do the fighting! | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| And since we lads are proud and true, | 8 | ········ |
| What else remains to do? | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| Lucasta, when to France your man | 8 | ········ |
| Returns his fourth time, hating war, | 8 | ˘/···/˘· |
| Yet laughs as calmly as he can | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And flings an oath, but says no more, | 8 | ········ |
| That is not courage, that's not fear-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Lucasta he's a Fusilier, | 8 | ········ |
| And his pride sends him here. | 6 | ······ |
| Let statesmen bluster, bark and bray, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And so decide who started | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| This bloody war, and who's to pay, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| But he must be stout-hearted, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Must sit and stake with quiet breath, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Playing at cards with Death. | 6 | /˘···· |
| Don't plume yourself he fights for you; | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| It is no courage, love, or hate, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But let us do the things we do; | 8 | ········ |
| It's pride that makes the heart be great; | 8 | ········ |
| It is not anger, no, nor fear-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Lucasta he's a Fusilier, | 8 | ········ |
| And his pride keeps him here. | 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.