Manitoba Childe Roland
Last night a January wind was ripping at the shingles over our house and whistling a wolf song under the eaves.
I sat in a leather rocker and read to a six-year-old girl the Browning poem, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came.
And her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful to her and she could not understand.
A man is crossing a big prairie, says the poem, and nothing happens—and he goes on and on—and it's all lonesome and empty and nobody home.
And he goes on and on—and nothing happens—and he comes on a horse's skull, dry bones of a dead horse—and you know more than ever it's all lonesome and empty and nobody home.
And the man raises a horn to his lips and blows—he fixes a proud neck and forehead toward the empty sky and the empty land—and blows one last wonder-cry.
And as the shuttling automatic memory of man clicks off its results willy-nilly and inevitable as the snick of a mouse-trap or the trajectory of a 42-centimeter projectile,
I flash to the form of a man to his hips in snow drifts of Manitoba and Minnesota—in the sled derby run from Winnipeg to Minneapolis.
He is beaten in the race the first day out of Winnipeg—the lead dog is eaten by four team mates—and the man goes on and on—running while the other racers ride—running while the other racers sleep—
Lost in a blizzard twenty-four hours, repeating a circle of travel hour after hour—fighting the dogs who dig holes in the snow and whimper for sleep—pushing on—running and walking five hundred miles to the end of the race—almost a winner—one toe frozen, feet blistered and frost-bitten.
And I know why a thousand young men of the Northwest meet him in the finishing miles and yell cheers—I know why judges of the race call him a winner and give him a special prize even though he is a loser.
I know he kept under his shirt and around his thudding heart amid the blizzards of five hundred miles that one last wonder-cry of Childe Roland—and I told the six-year-old girl all about it.
And while the January wind was ripping at the shingles and whistling a wolf song under the eaves, her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful to her and she could not understand.
Words in this poem
- january n.
- The first month of the year, containing thirty-one days. [L. Januarius, fr. Janus an old Latin deity, the god of the sun and the year, to whom the month of January was sacred; cf. janua a door, Skr. ya to go.]
- rocker n.
- One who rocks; specifically, one who rocks a cradle.
- childe n.
- A cognomen formerly prefixed to his name by the oldest son, until he succeeded to his ancestral titles, or was knighted; as, Childe Roland.
- lonesome a.
- Secluded from society; not frequented by human beings; solitary.
- nobody n.
- No person; no one; not anybody. [No, a. + body.]
- snick n.
- A small cut or mark. [Prov. E. snick a notch; cf. Icel. snikka nick, cut.]
- trajectory n.
- The curve which a body describes in space, as a planet or comet in its orbit, or stone thrown upward obliquely in the air. [Cf. F. trajectoire.]
- blizzard n.
- A gale of piercingly cold wind, usually accompanied with fine and blinding snow; a furious blast. [U. S.] [Cf. Blaze to flash. Formerly, in local use, a rattling volley; cf. "to blaze away" to fire away.]
- whimper v. i.
- To cry with a low, whining, broken voice; to whine; to complain; as, a child whimpers. [Cf. Scot. whimmer, G. wimmern.]
- winner n.
- One who wins, or gains by success in competition, contest, or gaming.
- loser n.
- One who loses. South.
- amid prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Manitoba Childe Roland is in the public domain. This text is taken from Cornhuskers, Wikisource; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Carl Sandburg, Manitoba Childe Roland, in Cornhuskers (1918), text of Wikisource, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/sandburg-cornhuskers/manitoba-childe-roland.html, id L29016.
Form and metre
Manitoba Childe Roland is 13 lines in 13 stanzas of 1 lines each. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter.
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.
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Last night a January wind was ripping at the shingles over our house and whistling a wolf song under the eaves. | 30 | ···/˘·˘··/˘··/˘··/˘··/˘······· |
| I sat in a leather rocker and read to a six-year-old girl the Browning poem, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came. | 30 | ····/˘/˘·········/˘/˘·/˘···/˘· |
| And her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful to her and she could not understand. | 25 | ·······/˘····/˘˘·······˘/ |
| A man is crossing a big prairie, says the poem, and nothing happens—and he goes on and on—and it's all lonesome and empty and nobody home. | 37 | ···/˘··/˘··/˘·/˘/˘·········/˘·/˘·/··· |
| And he goes on and on—and nothing happens—and he comes on a horse's skull, dry bones of a dead horse—and you know more than ever it's all lonesome and empty and nobody home. | 44 | ·······/˘/˘·····/˘············/˘··/˘·/˘·/··· |
| And the man raises a horn to his lips and blows—he fixes a proud neck and forehead toward the empty sky and the empty land—and blows one last wonder-cry. | 39 | ···/˘········/˘····/˘···/˘···/˘·····/˘· |
| And as the shuttling automatic memory of man clicks off its results willy-nilly and inevitable as the snick of a mouse-trap or the trajectory of a 42-centimeter projectile, | 52 | ···/˘˘·˘/˘/˘˘·····˘//˘/˘·˘/˘˘˘·········˘/˘˘··/˘·˘˘/˘ |
| I flash to the form of a man to his hips in snow drifts of Manitoba and Minnesota—in the sled derby run from Winnipeg to Minneapolis. | 40 | ················˘/˘··˘/˘···/˘··/˘˘··˘/˘˘ |
| He is beaten in the race the first day out of Winnipeg—the lead dog is eaten by four team mates—and the man goes on and on—running while the other racers ride—running while the other racers sleep— | 50 | ··/˘········/˘˘····/˘···········/˘··/˘/˘·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Lost in a blizzard twenty-four hours, repeating a circle of travel hour after hour—fighting the dogs who dig holes in the snow and whimper for sleep—pushing on—running and walking five hundred miles to the end of the race—almost a winner—one toe frozen, feet blistered and frost-bitten. | 74 | ···/˘/˘·/˘˘/˘·/˘·/˘/˘··/˘/˘·········/˘··/˘·/˘·/˘·/˘·······/··/˘··/˘·/˘··/˘ |
| And I know why a thousand young men of the Northwest meet him in the finishing miles and yell cheers—I know why judges of the race call him a winner and give him a special prize even though he is a loser. | 52 | ·····/˘·····/····/˘˘·······/˘······/˘····/˘·/˘····/˘ |
| I know he kept under his shirt and around his thudding heart amid the blizzards of five hundred miles that one last wonder-cry of Childe Roland—and I told the six-year-old girl all about it. | 47 | ············/˘·˘/·/˘··/˘····/˘···/˘············ |
| And while the January wind was ripping at the shingles and whistling a wolf song under the eaves, her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful to her and she could not understand. | 49 | ···/˘·˘··/˘··/˘·/˘·············/˘····/˘˘·······˘/ |
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.