The Coming of War
Gather the people, for the battle breaks:From camping grounds above the valley,Gather the men-at-arms, and bid them rally:Because the morn, the battle, wakes.High throned above the mountains and the main,Triumphs the sun: far down, the pasture plainTo trampling armour shakes.
This was the meaning of those plenteous years,Those unarmed years of peace unbroken:Flashing war crowns them! Now war's trump hath spokenThis final glory in our ears.The old blood of our pastoral fathers nowRiots about our heart, and through our brow:Their sons can have no fears.
This was our whispering and haunting dream,When cornfields flourished, red and golden:When vines hung purple, nor could be withholdenThe radiant outburst of their stream.Earth cried to us, that all her laboured storeWas ours: that she had more to give, and more:For nothing, did we deem?
We give her back the glory of this hour.O sun and earth! O strength and beauty!We use you now, we thank you now: our dutyWe stand to do, mailed in your power.A little people of a favoured land,Helmed with the blessing of the morn we stand:Our life is at its flower.
Gather the people, let the battle break:An hundred peaceful years are over.Now march each man to battle, as a lover:For him, whom death shall overtake!Sleeping upon this field, about his gloomVoices shall pierce, to thrill his sacred tomb,Of pride for his great sake.
With melody about us: heart and feetResponding to one mighty measure;Glad with the splendour of an holy pleasure;Swayed, one and all, as wind sways wheat:Answering the sunlight with our eyes aglow;Serene, and proud, and passionate, we goThrough airs of morning sweet.
Let no man dare to be disheartened now!We challenge death beyond denial.Against the host of death we make our trial:Lord God of Hosts! do thou,Who gavest us the fulness of thy sunOn fields of peace, perfect war's work begun:Warriors, to thee we bow.
O life-blood of remembrance! Long agoThis land upheld our ancient fathers:And for this land, their land, our land, now gathersOne fellowship against the foe.The spears flash: be they as our mothers' eyes!The trump sounds: hearken to our fathers' cries!March we to battle so.
Words in this poem 16
- camping n.
- Lodging in a camp.
- rally v. t.
- To collect, and reduce to order, as troops dispersed or thrown into confusion; to gather again; to reunite. [OF. ralier, F. rallier, fr. L. pref. re- + ad + ligare to bind. See Ra-, and 1st Ally.]
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- armour n.
- Defensive arms for the body; any clothing or covering worn to protect one's person in battle. [OE. armure, fr. F. armure, OF. armeure, fr. L. armatura. See Armature.]
- unarmed a.
- Not armed or armored; having no arms or weapons. [Pref. un- not + armed.]
- outburst n.
- A bursting forth.
- laboured a.
- Bearing marks of labor and effort; elaborately wrought; not easy or natural; as, labored poetry; a labored style.
- deem v. t.
- To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
- mailed a.
- Protected by an external coat, or covering, of scales or plates.
- favoured a.
- Countenanced; aided; regarded with kidness; as, a favored friend.
- helmed a.
- Covered with a helmet.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- splendour n.
- Great brightness; brilliant luster; brilliancy; as, the splendor ot the sun. B. Jonson. [L. fr. splendere to shine: cf. F. splendeur.]
- swayed a.
- Bent down, and hollow in the back; sway-backed; -- said of a horse.
- aglow adv.
- In a glow; glowing; as, cheeks aglow; the landscape all aglow. [Pref. a- + glow.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Coming of War is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #66520; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Lionel Johnson, The Coming of War, in Poems (1895), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66520, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/johnson-lionel-poems/the-coming-of-war.html, id L12493.
Form and metre
The Coming of War is 56 lines in 8 stanzas of 7 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABBACCA, complete in 6 of its 8 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 84%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ABBACCA breaksA · valleyB · rallyB · wakesA · mainC · plainC · shakesA
- 2 ABBACCA yearsA · unbrokenB · spokenB · earsA · nowC · browC · fearsA
- 3 ABBACCA dreamA · goldenB · withholdenB · streamA · storeC · moreC · deemA
- 4 ABBACCA hourA · beautyB · dutyB · powerA · landC · standC · flowerA
- 5 A--ABBA breakA · over · lover · overtakeA · gloomB · tombB · sakeA
- 6 ABBACCA feetA · measureB · pleasureB · wheatA · aglowC · goC · sweetA
- 7 ABBACCA nowA · denialB · trialB · thouA · sunC · begunC · bowA
- 8 ABBABBA agoA · fathersB · gathersB · foeA · eyesB · criesB · soA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Gather the people, for the battle breaks: | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| From camping grounds above the valley, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Gather the men-at-arms, and bid them rally: | 11 | /˘·······/˘ |
| Because the morn, the battle, wakes. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| High throned above the mountains and the main, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Triumphs the sun: far down, the pasture plain | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| To trampling armour shakes. | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| This was the meaning of those plenteous years, | 11 | ···/˘··/˘˘· |
| Those unarmed years of peace unbroken: | 9 | ·˘/···˘/˘ |
| Flashing war crowns them! Now war's trump hath spoken | 11 | /˘·······/˘ |
| This final glory in our ears. | 8 | ·/˘/˘·/· |
| The old blood of our pastoral fathers now | 10 | ····//˘/˘· |
| Riots about our heart, and through our brow: | 10 | /˘··/···/· |
| Their sons can have no fears. | 6 | ······ |
| This was our whispering and haunting dream, | 9 | ··//˘·/˘· |
| When cornfields flourished, red and golden: | 9 | ·///˘··/˘ |
| When vines hung purple, nor could be withholden | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| The radiant outburst of their stream. | 8 | ·/˘/···· |
| Earth cried to us, that all her laboured store | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Was ours: that she had more to give, and more: | 10 | ·/········ |
| For nothing, did we deem? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| We give her back the glory of this hour. | 10 | ·····/˘··/ |
| O sun and earth! O strength and beauty! | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| We use you now, we thank you now: our duty | 11 | ········//˘ |
| We stand to do, mailed in your power. | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| A little people of a favoured land, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Helmed with the blessing of the morn we stand: | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Our life is at its flower. | 8 | /˘····/˘ |
| Gather the people, let the battle break: | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| An hundred peaceful years are over. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Now march each man to battle, as a lover: | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| For him, whom death shall overtake! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Sleeping upon this field, about his gloom | 10 | /˘········ |
| Voices shall pierce, to thrill his sacred tomb, | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Of pride for his great sake. | 6 | ······ |
| With melody about us: heart and feet | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Responding to one mighty measure; | 9 | ˘/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Glad with the splendour of an holy pleasure; | 11 | ···/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Swayed, one and all, as wind sways wheat: | 8 | ········ |
| Answering the sunlight with our eyes aglow; | 10 | /˘·/··/·˘/ |
| Serene, and proud, and passionate, we go | 9 | ˘/···/˘·· |
| Through airs of morning sweet. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Let no man dare to be disheartened now! | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| We challenge death beyond denial. | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| Against the host of death we make our trial: | 11 | ········//˘ |
| Lord God of Hosts! do thou, | 6 | ······ |
| Who gavest us the fulness of thy sun | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| On fields of peace, perfect war's work begun: | 10 | ····˘/··˘/ |
| Warriors, to thee we bow. | 7 | /˘˘···· |
| O life-blood of remembrance! Long ago | 10 | ····˘/˘·˘/ |
| This land upheld our ancient fathers: | 9 | ··˘///˘/˘ |
| And for this land, their land, our land, now gathers | 11 | ······/··/˘ |
| One fellowship against the foe. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The spears flash: be they as our mothers' eyes! | 10 | ······//˘· |
| The trump sounds: hearken to our fathers' cries! | 10 | ···/˘·//˘· |
| March we to battle so. | 6 | ···/˘· |
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