And the Greatest of These Is War
Around the council-board of Hell, with Satan at their head,The Three Great Scourges of humanity sat.Gaunt Famine, with hollow cheek and voice, arose and spoke,--"O, Prince, I have stalked the earth,And my victims by ten thousands I have slain,I have smitten old and young.Mouths of the helpless old moaning for bread, I have filled with dust;And I have laughed to see a crying babe tug at the shriveling breastOf its mother, dead and cold.I have heard the cries and prayers of men go up to a tearless sky,And fall back upon an earth of ashes;But, heedless, I have gone on with my work.'Tis thus, O, Prince, that I have scourged mankind."
Pale Pestilence, with stenchful breath, then spoke and said,--"Great Prince, my brother, Famine, attacks the poor.He is most terrible against the helpless and the old.But I have made a charnel-house of the mightiest cities of men.When I strike, neither their stores of gold or of grain avail.With a breath I lay low their strongest, and wither up their fairest.I come upon them without warning, lancing invisible death.From me they flee with eyes and mouths distended;I poison the air for which they gasp, and I strike them down fleeing.'Tis thus, great Prince, that I have scourged mankind."
Then the red monster, War, rose up and spoke,--His blood-shot eyes glared 'round him, and his thundering voiceEchoed through the murky vaults of Hell.--"O, mighty Prince, my brothers, Famine and Pestilence,Have slain their thousands and ten thousands,--true;But the greater their victories have been,The more have they wakened in Man's breastThe God-like attributes of sympathy, of brotherhood and loveAnd made of him a searcher after wisdom.But I arouse in Man the demon and the brute,I plant black hatred in his heart and red revenge.From the summit of fifty thousand years of upward climbI haul him down to the level of the start, back to the wolf.I give him claws.I set his teeth into his brother's throat.I make him drunk with his brother's blood.And I laugh ho! ho! while he destroys himself.O, mighty Prince, not only do I slay,But I draw Man hellward."
And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and said,--"O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I crown you chief."
Words in this poem
- gaunt a.
- Attenuated, as with fasting or suffering; lean; meager; pinched and grim. [Cf. Norw. gand a thin pointed stick, a tall and thin man, and W. gwan weak.]
- famine n.
- General scarcity of food; dearth; a want of provisions; destitution. [F. famine, fr. L. fames hunger; cf. Gr. hani loss, lack, ha to leave.]
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- babe n.
- An infant; a young child of either sex; a baby. [Cf. Ir. bab, baban, W. baban, maban.]
- tearless a.
- Shedding no tears; free from tears; unfeeling.
- gasp v. i.
- To open the mouth wide in catching the breath, or in laborious respiration; to labor for breath; to respire convulsively; to pant violently. [OE. gaspen, gaispen, to yawn, gasp, Icel. geispa to yawn; akin to Sw. gäspa, Dan. gispe to gasp.]
- thundering a.
- Emitting thunder.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
And the Greatest of These Is War is in the public domain. This text is taken from Fifty Years, & Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #17884; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: James Weldon Johnson, And the Greatest of These Is War, in Fifty Years and Other Poems (1917), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #17884, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/johnson-fifty-years/and-the-greatest-of-these-is-war.html, id L08313.
Form and metre
And the Greatest of These Is War is 44 lines in 4 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter. 87% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 11.5 syllables. 7 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 pentameter, other poems in blank verse.
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.
- 3 --------A--A------- spoke · voice · hell · pestilence · true · been · breast · love · wisdomA · brute · revenge · climbA · wolf · claws · throat · blood · himself · slay · hellward
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Around the council-board of Hell, with Satan at their head, | 14 | ···/˘····/˘··· |
| The Three Great Scourges of humanity sat. | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| Gaunt Famine, with hollow cheek and voice, arose and spoke,-- | 13 | ·/˘·/˘···˘/·· |
| "O, Prince, I have stalked the earth, | 8 | ·····˘·· |
| And my victims by ten thousands I have slain, | 11 | ··/˘··/˘··· |
| I have smitten old and young. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Mouths of the helpless old moaning for bread, I have filled with dust; | 15 | ···/˘·/˘······· |
| And I have laughed to see a crying babe tug at the shriveling breast | 16 | ·······/˘····/˘· |
| Of its mother, dead and cold. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| I have heard the cries and prayers of men go up to a tearless sky, | 16 | ·············/˘· |
| And fall back upon an earth of ashes; | 10 | ········/˘ |
| But, heedless, I have gone on with my work. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| 'Tis thus, O, Prince, that I have scourged mankind." | 10 | ········// |
| Pale Pestilence, with stenchful breath, then spoke and said,-- | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| "Great Prince, my brother, Famine, attacks the poor. | 11 | ···/˘/˘˘/·· |
| He is most terrible against the helpless and the old. | 13 | ···/˘···/˘··· |
| But I have made a charnel-house of the mightiest cities of men. | 16 | ·····/˘···/˘/˘·· |
| When I strike, neither their stores of gold or of grain avail. | 14 | ···/˘·······˘/ |
| With a breath I lay low their strongest, and wither up their fairest. | 16 | ·······/˘·/˘··/˘ |
| I come upon them without warning, lancing invisible death. | 15 | ·······/˘/˘˘/˘· |
| From me they flee with eyes and mouths distended; | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| I poison the air for which they gasp, and I strike them down fleeing. | 16 | ·/˘···········/˘ |
| 'Tis thus, great Prince, that I have scourged mankind." | 10 | ········// |
| Then the red monster, War, rose up and spoke,-- | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| His blood-shot eyes glared 'round him, and his thundering voice | 12 | ·········/˘· |
| Echoed through the murky vaults of Hell.-- | 9 | /˘··/˘··· |
| "O, mighty Prince, my brothers, Famine and Pestilence, | 12 | ·/˘··/˘/˘·/˘ |
| Have slain their thousands and ten thousands,--true; | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| But the greater their victories have been, | 9 | ··/˘·/˘·· |
| The more have they wakened in Man's breast | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| The God-like attributes of sympathy, of brotherhood and love | 15 | ···/˘··/˘·/˘··· |
| And made of him a searcher after wisdom. | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| But I arouse in Man the demon and the brute, | 12 | ··˘/···/˘··· |
| I plant black hatred in his heart and red revenge. | 12 | ···/˘·····˘/ |
| From the summit of fifty thousand years of upward climb | 14 | ··/˘·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| I haul him down to the level of the start, back to the wolf. | 15 | ······/˘······· |
| I give him claws. | 4 | ···· |
| I set his teeth into his brother's throat. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I make him drunk with his brother's blood. | 9 | ······/˘· |
| And I laugh ho! ho! while he destroys himself. | 11 | ·······˘/˘/ |
| O, mighty Prince, not only do I slay, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| But I draw Man hellward." | 6 | ····/˘ |
| And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and said,-- | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| "O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I crown you chief." | 15 | ·····/˘·˘/˘···· |
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.