The Effect
"The effect of our bombardment was terrific.One man told me he had never seen so many dead before."War Correspondent.
"He'd never seen so many dead before."They sprawled in yellow daylight while he sworeAnd gasped and lugged his everlasting loadOf bombs along what once had been a road."How peaceful are the dead."Who put that silly gag in some one's head?
"He'd never seen so many dead before."The lilting words danced up and down his brain,While corpses jumped and capered in the rain.No, no; hfc wouldn't count them any more ...The dead have done with pain:They've choked; they can't come back to life again.
When Dick was killed last week he looked like that,Flapping along the fire-step like a fish,After the blazing crump had knocked him flat ..."How many dead? As many as ever you wish.Don't count 'em; they're too many.Who'll buy my nice fresh corpses, two a penny?"
Words in this poem
- bombardment n.
- An attack upon a fortress or fortified town, with shells, hot shot, rockets, etc.; the act of throwing bombs and shot into a town or fortified place. [F. bombardement.]
- daylight n.
- The light of day as opposed to the darkness of night; the light of the sun, as opposed to that of the moon or to artificial light.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Effect 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, The Effect, in The War Poems (1919), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #45199, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/sassoon-war-poems/the-effect.html, id L17241.
Form and metre
The Effect is 21 lines in 4 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 90%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.5 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 10% 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.
- 2 AABBCC beforeA · sworeA · loadB · roadB · deadC · headC
- 3 ABBABB beforeA · brainB · rainB · moreA · painB · againB
- 4 ABABCC thatA · fishB · flatA · wishB · manyC · pennyC
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 |
|---|---|---|
| "The effect of our bombardment was terrific. | 12 | ·˘/·/˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| One man told me he had never seen so many dead before." | 13 | ······/··/··· |
| War Correspondent. | 5 | ··˘/˘ |
| "He'd never seen so many dead before." | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| They sprawled in yellow daylight while he swore | 10 | ···/˘/···· |
| And gasped and lugged his everlasting load | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Of bombs along what once had been a road. | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| "How peaceful are the dead." | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Who put that silly gag in some one's head? | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| "He'd never seen so many dead before." | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| The lilting words danced up and down his brain, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| While corpses jumped and capered in the rain. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| No, no; hfc wouldn't count them any more ... | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| The dead have done with pain: | 6 | ······ |
| They've choked; they can't come back to life again. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| When Dick was killed last week he looked like that, | 10 | ·········· |
| Flapping along the fire-step like a fish, | 10 | /˘˘/·/···· |
| After the blazing crump had knocked him flat ... | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| "How many dead? As many as ever you wish. | 10 | ·/··/·/˘·· |
| Don't count 'em; they're too many. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Who'll buy my nice fresh corpses, two a penny?" | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
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.