Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE VOLUNTEER, by THOMAS HOOD Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Twas in that memorable year Last Line: A martial epigram. Subject(s): Great Britain - Relations With France; Soldiers | ||||||||
"The clashing of my armour in my ears Sounds like a passing bell; my buckler puts me In mind of a bier; this, my broadsword, a pickaxe To dig my grave." THE LOVER'S PROGRESS. I. 'T WAS in that memorable year France threaten'd to put off in Flat-bottom'd boats, intending each To be a British coffin, To make sad widows of our wives, And every babe an orphan: -- II. When coats were made of scarlet cloaks, And heads were dredg'd with flour, I listed in the Lawyers' Corps, Against the battle hour; A perfect Volunteer -- for why? I brought my "will and pow'r." III. One dreary day -- a day of dread, Like Cato's, over-cast -- About the hour of six, (the morn And I were breaking fast,) There came a loud and sudden sound, That struck me all aghast! IV. A dismal sort of morning roll, That was not to be eaten: Although it was no skin of mine, But parchment that was beaten, I felt tatoo'd through all my flesh, Like any Otaheitan. V. My jaws with utter dread enclosed The morsel I was munching, And terror lock'd them up so tight, My very teeth went crunching All through my bread and tongue at once, Like sandwich made at lunching. VI. My hand that held the tea-pot fast, Stiffen'd, but yet unsteady, Kept pouring, pouring, pouring o'er The cup in one long eddy, Till both my hose were mark'd with tea, As they were mark'd already. VII. I felt my visage turn from red To white -- from cold to hot; But it was nothing wonderful My colour changed, I wot, For, like some variable silks, I felt that I was shot. VIII. And looking forth with anxious eye, From my snug upper storey, I saw our melancholy corps, Going to beds all gory; The pioneers seem'd very loth To axe their way to glory. IX. The captain march'd as mourners march, The ensign too seem'd lagging, And many more, although they were No ensigns, took to flagging -- Like corpses in the Serpentine, Methought they wanted dragging. X. But while I watch'd, the thought of death Came like a chilly gust, And lo! I shut the window down, With very little lust To join so many marching men, That soon might be March dust. XI. Quoth I, "since Fate ordains it so, Our foe the coast must land on;" -- I felt so warm beside the fire I cared not to abandon; Our hearths and homes are always things That patriots make a stand on. XII. "The fools that fight abroad for home," Thought I, "may get a wrong one; Let those that have no homes at all, Go battle for a long one." The mirror here confirm'd me this Reflection, by a strong one. XIII. For there, where I was wont to shave, And deck me like Adonis, There stood the leader of our foes, With vultures for his cronies -- No Corsican, but Death himself, The Bony of all Bonies. XIV. A horrid sight it was, and sad To see the grisly chap Put on my crimson livery, And then begin to clap My helmet on -- ah me! it felt Like any felon's cap. XV. My plume seem'd borrow'd from a hearse, An undertaker's crest; My epaulettes like coffin-plates; My belt so heavy press'd, Four pipeclay cross-roads seem'd to lie At once upon my breast. XVI. My brazen breast-plate only lack'd A little heap of salt, To make me like a corpse full dress'd, Preparing for the vault -- To set up what the Poet calls My everlasting halt. XVII. This funeral show inclined me quite To peace: -- and here I am! Whilst better lions go to war, Enjoying with the lamb A lengthen'd life, that might have been A martial epigram. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL ARMIES ARE THE SAME by ERNEST HEMINGWAY ABSENT WITH OFFICIAL LEAVE by RANDALL JARRELL PORT OF EMBARKATION by RANDALL JARRELL THE CONFESSION OF ST. JIM-RALPH by DENIS JOHNSON OPERATION MEMORY by DAVID LEHMAN |
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