Analysis of On The Wire
O God, take the sun from the sky!
It's burning me, scorching me up.
God, can't You hear my cry?
Water! A poor, little cup!
It's laughing, the cursed sun!
See how it swells and swells
Fierce as a hundred hells!
God, will it never have done?
It's searing the flesh on my bones;
It's beating with hammers red
My eyeballs into my head;
It's parching my very moans.
See! It's the size of the sky,
And the sky is a torrent of fire,
Foaming on me as I lie
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .
Of the thousands that wheeze and hum
Heedlessly over my head,
Why can't a bullet come,
Pierce to my brain instead,
Blacken forever my brain,
Finish forever my pain?
Here in the hellish glare
Why must I suffer so?
Is it God doesn't care?
Is it God doesn't know?
Oh, to be killed outright,
Clean in the clash of the fight!
That is a golden death,
That is a boon; but this . . .
Drawing an anguished breath
Under a hot abyss,
Under a stooping sky
Of seething, sulphurous fire,
Scorching me up as I lie
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .
Hasten, O God, Thy night!
Hide from my eyes the sight
Of the body I stare and see
Shattered so hideously.
I can't believe that it's mine.
My body was white and sweet,
Flawless and fair and fine,
Shapely from head to feet;
Oh no, I can never be
The thing of horror I see
Under the rifle fire,
Trussed on the wire . . . the wire. . . .
Of night and of death I dream;
Night that will bring me peace,
Coolness and starry gleam,
Stillness and death's release:
Ages and ages have passed, --
Lo! it is night at last.
Night! but the guns roar out.
Night! but the hosts attack.
Red and yellow and black
Geysers of doom upspout.
Silver and green and red
Star-shells hover and spread.
Yonder off to the right
Fiercely kindles the fight;
Roaring near and more near,
Thundering now in my ear;
Close to me, close . . . Oh, hark!
Someone moans in the dark.
I hear, but I cannot see,
I hear as the rest retire,
Someone is caught like me,
Caught on the wire . . . the wire. . . .
Again the shuddering dawn,
Weird and wicked and wan;
Again, and I've not yet gone.
The man whom I heard is dead.
Now I can understand:
A bullet hole in his head,
A pistol gripped in his hand.
Well, he knew what to do, --
Yes, and now I know too. . . .
Hark the resentful guns!
Oh , how thankful am I
To think my beloved ones
Will never know how I die!
I've suffered more than my share;
I'm shattered beyond repair;
I've fought like a man the fight,
And now I demand the right
(God! how his fingers cling!)
To do without shame this thing.
Good! there's a bullet still;
Now I'm ready to fire;
Blame me, God, if You will,
Here on the wire . . . the wire. . . .
Scheme | ababcddceffeagaG hfhfiijkjkllmnmnagaG lloopqpqoogg rsrsttxuufffllxxvvoxog wxwfxfxyy zazajjll1 1 2 g2 g |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11101101 11011011 111111 1001101 110011 111101 110101 1111011 11001111 1101101 110111 111101 1101101 0011010110 1011111 11010010 10101101 11011 110101 111101 1001011 1001011 100101 111101 111101 111101 111111 1001101 110101 110111 101101 100101 100101 110110 1011111 11010010 101111 111101 10101101 1011000 1101111 1101101 100101 101111 1111101 0111011 1001010 11010010 1101111 111111 100101 100101 1001011 111111 110111 110101 101001 10111 100101 111001 101101 10101 101011 1001011 111111 11001 1111101 1110101 11111 11010010 0101001 101001 0101111 0111111 11101 0101011 0101011 111111 101111 100101 111011 111011 1101111 1101111 1100101 1110101 0110101 111101 1101111 110101 1110110 111111 11010010 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,740 |
Words | 506 |
Sentences | 83 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 16, 20, 12, 22, 9, 14 |
Lines Amount | 93 |
Letters per line (avg) | 21 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 323 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 91 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 22, 2023
- 2:37 min read
- 91 Views
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"On The Wire" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32346/on-the-wire>.
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