Dirge of Dead Sisters
Who recalls the twilight and the ranged tents in order(Violet peaks uplifted through the crystal evening air?)And the clink of iron teacups and the piteous, noble laughter,And the faces of the Sisters with the dust upon their hair?
(Now and not hereafter, while the breath is in our nostrils,Now and not hereafter, ere the meaner years go by--Let us now remember many honourable women,Such as bade us turn again when we were like to die.)
Who recalls the morning and the thunder through the foothills(Tufts of fleecy shrapnel strung along the empty plains?)And the sun-scarred Red-Cross coaches creeping guarded to theculvert,And the faces of the Sisters looking gravely from the trains?
(When the days were torment and the nights were clouded terror,When the Powers of Darkness had dominion on our soul--When we fled consuming through the Seven Hells of fever,These put out their hands to us and healed and made us whole.)
Who recalls the midnight by the bridge’s wrecked abutment(Autumn rain that rattled like a Maxim on the tin?)And the lightning-dazzled levels and the streaming, strainingwagons,And the faces of the Sisters as they bore the wounded in?
(Till the pain was merciful and stunned us into silence--When each nerve cried out on God that made the misused clay;When the Body triumphed and the last poor shame departed--These abode our agonies and wiped the sweat away.)
Who recalls the noontide and the funerals through the market(Blanket-hidden bodies, flagless, followed by the flies?)And the footsore firing-party, and the dust and stench andstaleness,And the faces of the Sisters and the glory in their eyes?
(Bold behind the battle, in the open camp all-hallowed,Patient, wise, and mirthful in the ringed and reeking town,These endured unresting till they rested from their labours--Little wasted bodies, ah, so light to lower down!)
Yet their graves are scattered and their names are clean forgotten,Earth shall not remember, but the Waiting Angel knowsThem that died at Uitvlugt when the plague was on the city--Her that fell at Simon’s Town in service on our foes.
Wherefore we they ransomed, while the breath is in our nostrils,Now and not hereafter, ere the meaner years go by,Praise with love and worship many honourable women,Those that gave their lives for us when we were like to die!
Words in this poem 15
- clink v. t.
- To cause to give out a slight, sharp, tinkling, sound, as by striking metallic or other sonorous bodies together. [OE. clinken; akin to G. klingen, D. klinken, SW. klinga, Dan. klinge; prob. of imitative origin. Cf. Clank, Clench, Click, v. i.]
- hereafter adv.
- In time to come; in some future time or state. [AS. hræfter.]
- bade
- A form of the pat tense of Bid.
- fleecy a.
- Covered with, made of, or resembling, a fleece.
- shrapnel a.
- Applied as an appellation to a kind of shell invented by Gen.
- culvert n.
- A transverse drain or waterway of masonry under a road, railroad, canal, etc.; a small bridge. [Prob. from OF. coulouere, F. couloir, channel, gutter, gallery, fr. couler to flow. See Cullis.]
- gravely adv.
- In a grave manner.
- abutment n.
- State of abutting.
- streaming a.
- Sending forth streams.
- abode n.
- Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
- noontide n.
- The time of noon; midday. [From noon + tide time; cf. AS. n the ninth hour.]
- stench v. t.
- To stanch. Harvey.
- staleness n.
- The quality or state of being stale.
- 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,]
- wherefore adv.
- For which reason; so; -- used relatively. [Where + for.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Dirge of Dead Sisters is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Five Nations, Volume II, Project Gutenberg ebook #60261; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Rudyard Kipling, Dirge of Dead Sisters, in The Five Nations, Volume II (1903), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #60261, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kipling-five-nations-2/dirge-of-dead-sisters.html, id L20254.
Form and metre
Dirge of Dead Sisters is 43 lines in 10 stanzas. The metre is trochaic heptameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%).
See other poems in trochaic heptameter.
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 -A-A order · airA · laughter · hairA
- 2 -A-A nostrils · byA · women · dieA
- 3 -A--A foothills · plainsA · the · culvert · trainsA
- 4 -A-A terror · soulA · fever · wholeA
- 5 -A--A abutment · tinA · straining · wagons · inA
- 6 -A-A silence · clayA · departed · awayA
- 7 -A--A market · fliesA · and · staleness · eyesA
- 8 -A-A hallowed · townA · labours · downA
- 9 -A-A forgotten · knowsA · city · foesA
- 10 -A-A nostrils · byA · women · dieA
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 trochaic heptameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Who recalls the twilight and the ranged tents in order | 14 | ·˘/·/····˘··/˘ |
| (Violet peaks uplifted through the crystal evening air?) | 14 | /˘˘·/˘˘··/˘/˘· |
| And the clink of iron teacups and the piteous, noble laughter, | 16 | ····//···/˘˘/˘/˘ |
| And the faces of the Sisters with the dust upon their hair? | 15 | ··/˘··/˘······· |
| (Now and not hereafter, while the breath is in our nostrils, | 15 | ···˘/˘·····/˘/˘ |
| Now and not hereafter, ere the meaner years go by-- | 13 | ···˘/˘··/˘··· |
| Let us now remember many honourable women, | 14 | ···˘/˘/˘····/˘ |
| Such as bade us turn again when we were like to die.) | 13 | ·····˘/······ |
| Who recalls the morning and the thunder through the foothills | 14 | ·˘/·/˘··/˘··/· |
| (Tufts of fleecy shrapnel strung along the empty plains?) | 13 | ··/˘/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| And the sun-scarred Red-Cross coaches creeping guarded to the | 14 | ······/˘/˘/˘·· |
| culvert, | 2 | /˘ |
| And the faces of the Sisters looking gravely from the trains? | 15 | ··/˘··/˘/˘/˘··· |
| (When the days were torment and the nights were clouded terror, | 14 | ····/·····/˘/˘ |
| When the Powers of Darkness had dominion on our soul-- | 14 | ··/·/˘·˘/˘·/˘· |
| When we fled consuming through the Seven Hells of fever, | 14 | ···˘/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| These put out their hands to us and healed and made us whole.) | 14 | ·········˘···· |
| Who recalls the midnight by the bridge’s wrecked abutment | 14 | ·˘/·/···/˘·˘/˘ |
| (Autumn rain that rattled like a Maxim on the tin?) | 14 | /˘··/˘˘··/˘··· |
| And the lightning-dazzled levels and the streaming, straining | 14 | ··/˘/˘/˘··/˘/˘ |
| wagons, | 2 | /˘ |
| And the faces of the Sisters as they bore the wounded in? | 15 | ··/˘··/˘····/˘· |
| (Till the pain was merciful and stunned us into silence-- | 14 | ····/˘˘·····/˘ |
| When each nerve cried out on God that made the misused clay; | 14 | ··········˘/˘· |
| When the Body triumphed and the last poor shame departed-- | 14 | ··/˘/˘·····˘/˘ |
| These abode our agonies and wiped the sweat away.) | 14 | ·˘//˘/˘˘····˘/ |
| Who recalls the noontide and the funerals through the market | 15 | ·˘/·/˘··/˘˘··/˘ |
| (Blanket-hidden bodies, flagless, followed by the flies?) | 14 | /˘/˘/˘··/˘˘··· |
| And the footsore firing-party, and the dust and stench and | 14 | ··/˘/˘/˘······ |
| staleness, | 2 | /˘ |
| And the faces of the Sisters and the glory in their eyes? | 15 | ··/˘··/˘··/˘··· |
| (Bold behind the battle, in the open camp all-hallowed, | 14 | ····/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Patient, wise, and mirthful in the ringed and reeking town, | 14 | /˘··/˘···˘·/˘· |
| These endured unresting till they rested from their labours-- | 14 | ·˘/˘/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Little wasted bodies, ah, so light to lower down!) | 13 | /˘/˘/˘····/˘· |
| Yet their graves are scattered and their names are clean forgotten, | 14 | ····/˘·····˘/˘ |
| Earth shall not remember, but the Waiting Angel knows | 13 | ···˘/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Them that died at Uitvlugt when the plague was on the city-- | 14 | ············/˘ |
| Her that fell at Simon’s Town in service on our foes. | 14 | ····/˘··/˘·/˘· |
| Wherefore we they ransomed, while the breath is in our nostrils, | 15 | /˘··/˘·····/˘/˘ |
| Now and not hereafter, ere the meaner years go by, | 13 | ···˘/˘··/˘··· |
| Praise with love and worship many honourable women, | 14 | ····/˘/˘····/˘ |
| Those that gave their lives for us when we were like to die! | 13 | ············· |
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.