The Parting of the Columns
We’ve rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations come to hand.Together for a year and more around this stinkin’ land:Now you are goin’ home again, but we must see it through.We needn’t tell we liked you well. Good-bye--good luck to you!
You ’ad no special call to come, and so you doubled out,And learned us how to camp and cook an’ steal a horse and scout:Whatever game we fancied most, you joyful played it too,And rather better on the whole. Good-bye--good luck to you!
There isn’t much we ’aven’t shared, since Kruger cut and run,The same old work, the same old skoff, the same old dust and sun;The same old chance that laid us out, or winked an’ let us through;The same old Life, the same old Death. Good-bye--good luck to you!
Our blood ’as truly mixed with yours--all down the Red Cross train,We’ve bit the same thermometer in Bloemingtyphoidtein.We’ve ’ad the same old temp’rature--the same relapses too,The same old saw-backed fever-chart. Good-bye--good luck to you!
But ’twasn’t merely this an’ that (which all the world may know),’Twas how you talked an’ looked at things which made us like you so.All independent, queer an’ odd, but most amazin’ new,My word! you shook us up to rights. Good-bye--good luck to you!
Think o’ the stories round the fire, the tales along the trek--O’ Calgary an’ Wellin’ton, an’ Sydney and Quebec;Of mine an’ farm, an’ ranch an’ run, an’ moose an’ cariboo,An’ parrots peckin’ lambs to death! Good-bye--good luck to you!
We’ve seen you ’ome by word o’ mouth, we’ve watched your rivers shine,We’ve ’eard your bloomin’ forests blow of eucalip’ and pine;Your young, gay countries north an’ south, we feel we own ’em too,For they was made by rank an’ file. Good-bye--good luck to you!
We’ll never read the papers now without inquirin’ firstFor word from all those friendly dorps where you was born an’ nursed.Why, Dawson, Galle, an’ Montreal--Port Darwin--Timaru,They’re only just across the road! Good-bye--good luck to you!
Good-bye!--So-long! Don’t lose yourselves--nor us, nor all kindfriends,But tell the girls your side the drift we’re comin’--when it ends!Good-bye, you bloomin’ Atlases! You’ve taught us somethin’ new:The world’s no bigger than a kraal. Good-bye--good luck to you!
Words in this poem
- rode n.
- Redness; complexion. [See Rud.]
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- trek v. i.
- To draw or haul a load, as oxen.
- ranch v. t.
- To wrench; to tear; to sprain; to injure by violent straining or contortion. [Cf. Wrench.]
- bigger a.
- , compar. of Big.
- kraal n.
- A collection of huts within a stockade; a village; sometimes, a single hut. [South Africa] [D., a village, inclosure, park, prob. fr. Pg. curral a cattle pen; the same word as Sp. corral. See Corral.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Parting of the Columns 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, The Parting of the Columns, in The Five Nations, Volume II (1903), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #60261, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kipling-five-nations-2/the-parting-of-the-columns.html, id L20263.
Form and metre
The Parting of the Columns is 37 lines in 9 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABB, complete in 6 of its 9 stanzas. The metre is iambic heptameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
See other poems in iambic 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 AABB handA · landA · throughB · youB
- 2 AABB outA · scoutA · tooB · youB
- 3 AABB runA · sunA · throughB · youB
- 4 --AA train · bloemingtyphoidtein · tooA · youA
- 5 AABB knowA · soA · newB · youB
- 6 AABB trekA · quebecA · caribooB · youB
- 7 AABB shineA · pineA · tooB · youB
- 8 AA-- firstA · nursedA · timaru · you
- 9 -AABB kind · friendsA · endsA · newB · youB
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 heptameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| We’ve rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations come to hand. | 14 | ·········/˘··· |
| Together for a year and more around this stinkin’ land: | 14 | ˘/˘··········· |
| Now you are goin’ home again, but we must see it through. | 14 | ···/˘·˘/······ |
| We needn’t tell we liked you well. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·/˘··········· |
| You ’ad no special call to come, and so you doubled out, | 14 | ···/˘······/˘· |
| And learned us how to camp and cook an’ steal a horse and scout: | 14 | ·············· |
| Whatever game we fancied most, you joyful played it too, | 14 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘··· |
| And rather better on the whole. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·/˘/˘········· |
| There isn’t much we ’aven’t shared, since Kruger cut and run, | 14 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘··· |
| The same old work, the same old skoff, the same old dust and sun; | 14 | ·············· |
| The same old chance that laid us out, or winked an’ let us through; | 14 | ·············· |
| The same old Life, the same old Death. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·············· |
| Our blood ’as truly mixed with yours--all down the Red Cross train, | 14 | /··/˘········· |
| We’ve bit the same thermometer in Bloemingtyphoidtein. | 14 | ····˘/˘˘······ |
| We’ve ’ad the same old temp’rature--the same relapses too, | 14 | ··········˘/˘· |
| The same old saw-backed fever-chart. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| But ’twasn’t merely this an’ that (which all the world may know), | 13 | ··/˘········· |
| ’Twas how you talked an’ looked at things which made us like you so. | 14 | ·············· |
| All independent, queer an’ odd, but most amazin’ new, | 14 | ··˘/˘········· |
| My word! you shook us up to rights. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·············· |
| Think o’ the stories round the fire, the tales along the trek-- | 14 | ···/˘··/··˘/·· |
| O’ Calgary an’ Wellin’ton, an’ Sydney and Quebec; | 14 | ·/˘˘·····/˘·˘/ |
| Of mine an’ farm, an’ ranch an’ run, an’ moose an’ cariboo, | 14 | ·············· |
| An’ parrots peckin’ lambs to death! Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·/˘··········· |
| We’ve seen you ’ome by word o’ mouth, we’ve watched your rivers shine, | 14 | ···········/˘· |
| We’ve ’eard your bloomin’ forests blow of eucalip’ and pine; | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| Your young, gay countries north an’ south, we feel we own ’em too, | 14 | ···/˘········· |
| For they was made by rank an’ file. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·············· |
| We’ll never read the papers now without inquirin’ first | 14 | ·/˘··/˘······· |
| For word from all those friendly dorps where you was born an’ nursed. | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| Why, Dawson, Galle, an’ Montreal--Port Darwin--Timaru, | 14 | ·/˘···˘/·/˘··· |
| They’re only just across the road! Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ·/˘·˘/········ |
| Good-bye!--So-long! Don’t lose yourselves--nor us, nor all kind | 13 | ······˘/····· |
| friends, | 1 | · |
| But tell the girls your side the drift we’re comin’--when it ends! | 14 | ·········/˘··· |
| Good-bye, you bloomin’ Atlases! You’ve taught us somethin’ new: | 14 | ·····/˘˘···/˘· |
| The world’s no bigger than a kraal. Good-bye--good luck to you! | 14 | ···/˘········· |
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.