Concert Party (Egyptian Base Camp)
They are gathering round ...Out of the twilight; over the grey-blue sand,Shoals of low-jargoning men drift inward to the sound,--The jangle and throb of a piano ... tum-ti-tum ...Drawn by a lamp, they comeOut of the glimmering lines of their tents, over the shuffling sand.
O sing us the sopgs, the songs of our own land,You warbling ladies in white.Dimness conceals the hunger in our faces,This wall of faces risen out of the night,These eyes that keep their memories of the placesSo long beyond their sight.
Jaded and gay, the ladies sing; and the chap in brownTilts his grey hat; jaunty and lean and pale,He rattles the keys... some actor-bloke from town..."God send you home"; and then "A long, long trail";"I hear you calling me"; and "Dixieland" ...Sing slowly ... now the chorus ... one by one.We hear them, drink them; till the concert's done.Silent, I watch the shadowy mass of soldiers stand.Silent, they drift away, over the glimmering sand.
KANTARA,April, 1918.
Words in this poem
- jangle v. i.
- To sound harshly or discordantly, as bells out of tune. [OE. janglen to quarrel, OF. jangler to rail, quarrel; of Dutch or German origin; cf. D. jangelen, janken, to whimper, chide, brawl, quarrel.]
- throb v. i.
- To beat, or pulsate, with more than usual force or rapidity; to beat in consequence of agitation; to palpitate; -- said of the heart, pulse, etc. [OE. ; of uncertain origin; cf. Russ. trepete a trembling, and E. trepidation.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Concert Party (Egyptian Base Camp) is in the public domain. This text is taken from The War Poems of Siegfried Sassoon, Project Gutenberg ebook #45199; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Siegfried Sassoon, Concert Party (Egyptian Base Camp), in The War Poems (1919), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #45199, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/sassoon-war-poems/concert-party-egyptian-base-camp.html, id L17273.
Form and metre
Concert Party (Egyptian Base Camp) is 23 lines in 4 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter. 86% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.6 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 13% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 ABA--B roundA · sandB · soundA · tum · come · sandB
- 2 -ABABA land · whiteA · facesB · nightA · placesB · sightA
- 3 ABABCDDCC brownA · paleB · townA · trailB · dixielandC · oneD · doneD · standC · sandC
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 |
|---|---|---|
| They are gathering round ... | 6 | ··/˘˘· |
| Out of the twilight; over the grey-blue sand, | 10 | ···/······ |
| Shoals of low-jargoning men drift inward to the sound,-- | 12 | ···/˘··/˘··· |
| The jangle and throb of a piano ... tum-ti-tum ... | 13 | ·/˘····˘/˘··· |
| Drawn by a lamp, they come | 6 | ······ |
| Out of the glimmering lines of their tents, over the shuffling sand. | 14 | ···/˘······/˘· |
| O sing us the sopgs, the songs of our own land, | 11 | ········/·· |
| You warbling ladies in white. | 8 | ·/˘˘/˘·· |
| Dimness conceals the hunger in our faces, | 11 | /˘˘/·/˘·//˘ |
| This wall of faces risen out of the night, | 11 | ···/˘/˘···· |
| These eyes that keep their memories of the places | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| So long beyond their sight. | 6 | ······ |
| Jaded and gay, the ladies sing; and the chap in brown | 13 | /˘···/˘······ |
| Tilts his grey hat; jaunty and lean and pale, | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| He rattles the keys... some actor-bloke from town... | 11 | ·/˘···/˘··· |
| "God send you home"; and then "A long, long trail"; | 10 | ·········· |
| "I hear you calling me"; and "Dixieland" ... | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Sing slowly ... now the chorus ... one by one. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| We hear them, drink them; till the concert's done. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Silent, I watch the shadowy mass of soldiers stand. | 12 | /˘···/˘··/˘· |
| Silent, they drift away, over the glimmering sand. | 11 | /˘··˘/··/˘· |
| KANTARA, | 3 | ··· |
| April, 1918. | 2 | /˘ |
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.