The Men That Don't Fit in
There's a race of men that don't fit in,A race that can't stay still;So they break the hearts of kith and kin,And they roam the world at will.They range the field and they rove the flood,And they climb the mountain's crest;Theirs is the curse of the gipsy blood,And they don't know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;They are strong and brave and true;But they're always tired of the things that are,And they want the strange and new.They say: "Could I find my proper groove,What a deep mark I would make!"So they chop and change, and each fresh moveIs only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs,With a brilliant, fitful pace,It's the steady, quiet, plodding onesWho win in the lifelong race.And each forgets that his youth has fled,Forgets that his prime is past,Till he stands one day with a hope that's deadIn the glare of the truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;He has just done things by half.Life's been a jolly good joke on him,And now is the time to laugh.Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;He was never meant to win;He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;He's a man who won't fit in.
Words in this poem
- kith n.
- Acquaintance; kindred. [OE. kith, cu, AS. cc known. Uncouth, Can, and cf. Kythe.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- fitful a.
- Full of fits; irregularly variable; impulsive and unstable. [From 7th Fit.]
- plodding a.
- Progressing in a slow, toilsome manner; characterized by laborious diligence; as, a plodding peddler; a plodding student; a man of plodding habits. --Plod"ding*ly, adv.
- lifelong a.
- Lasting or continuing through life. [Life + long. Cf. Livelong.]
- glare v. i.
- To shine with a bright, dazzling light. [OE. glaren, gloren; cf. AS. glær amber, LG. glaren to glow or burn like coals, D. gloren to glimmer; prob. akin to E. glass.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Men That Don't Fit in is in the public domain. This text is taken from Songs of a Sourdough, Project Gutenberg ebook #25546; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert W. Service, The Men That Don't Fit in, in Songs of a Sourdough (1907), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #25546, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/service-sourdough/the-men-that-don-t-fit-in.html, id L08118.
Form and metre
The Men That Don't Fit in is 32 lines in 4 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 3 of its 4 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 80%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 9% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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.
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 ABABCDCD inA · stillB · kinA · willB · floodC · crestD · bloodC · restD
- 2 ABABCDCD farA · trueB · areA · newB · grooveC · makeD · moveC · mistakeD
- 3 ABABCDCD runsA · paceB · onesA · raceB · fledC · pastD · deadC · lastD
- 4 -A-A-BBB chance · halfA · him · laughA · lost · winB · boneB · inB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| There's a race of men that don't fit in, | 9 | ········· |
| A race that can't stay still; | 6 | ······ |
| So they break the hearts of kith and kin, | 9 | ········· |
| And they roam the world at will. | 7 | ······· |
| They range the field and they rove the flood, | 9 | ········· |
| And they climb the mountain's crest; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Theirs is the curse of the gipsy blood, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| And they don't know how to rest. | 7 | ······· |
| If they just went straight they might go far; | 9 | ········· |
| They are strong and brave and true; | 7 | ······· |
| But they're always tired of the things that are, | 10 | ··/·/····· |
| And they want the strange and new. | 7 | ······· |
| They say: "Could I find my proper groove, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| What a deep mark I would make!" | 7 | ······· |
| So they chop and change, and each fresh move | 9 | ········· |
| Is only a fresh mistake. | 7 | ·/˘··˘/ |
| And each forgets, as he strips and runs, | 9 | ··˘/····· |
| With a brilliant, fitful pace, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones | 9 | ··/˘/˘/˘· |
| Who win in the lifelong race. | 7 | ····//· |
| And each forgets that his youth has fled, | 9 | ··˘/····· |
| Forgets that his prime is past, | 7 | ˘/····· |
| Till he stands one day with a hope that's dead | 10 | ·········· |
| In the glare of the truth at last. | 8 | ········ |
| He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance; | 11 | ··········· |
| He has just done things by half. | 7 | ······· |
| Life's been a jolly good joke on him, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And now is the time to laugh. | 7 | ······· |
| Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| He was never meant to win; | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone; | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| He's a man who won't fit in. | 7 | ······· |
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.