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What does the poem "Robert Scarlett's song" mean and can you list any rhetorical devices you see?
I've known the toil of three score years
And built the arks of damned and dears,
And here I build unto this day;
O' how much longer can I stay?
I've known the lot of them from Birth,
Have seen their tears, have heard their mirth,
Have heard a maiden wail with child
And each was born to be exiled —
Both king and knave; to common end
Do all the sons of Adam tend
Where mire and mitre come to Blend —
We're wanderin’, we're wanderin'.
Four horsemen ride both day and night
And every living soul indict.
From John o' Groats unto Lands End
They take what man cannot defend,
And own all here and yet to come --
They fill the whole and are the sum.
And by their work I'm sore annoyed
Though all hours of the day employed.
I pant and grunt in mortal pain,
I feel my vital forces wane
But still I hear them o'er the plain
Come thunderin', come thunderin'.
I, shoulder-deep in dirt and death,
Strain gutter-gasped wit' failin' breath;
Alas, the farrier works by moon'
To make as one my curse and boon.
So on I delve, toss up a bone
And ken one day 'twill be my own —
What Mother fathers, Father tends,
Who counts at last the gold he spends.
And so I toil 'sif in a spell
Though I have heard the evening bell,
Each shovel one foot nearer hell —
I'm ponderin', I'm ponderin'.
And so tonight, when earth is cold,
I know the chill, and I am old.
I know that soon my labor's done,
My tine is past, my glass is run.
The thought that makes me heave in fright
-- That makes the chill run deep tonight --
Is that this final resting place
I make could mark my dire disgrace.
Aye, sixteen hooves forever pound
And o'er my roof their chord resound;
How could I know a sleep profound?
I'm wonderin', I'm wonderin'.
3 Answers
- 8 years agoFavorite Answer
What must have been the toll taken on men, such as Robert Scarlett, who dealt in death, who panted and struggled, surrounded both literally and figuratively by the sad estate that no man, themselves included, escaped. I think their ruminations, had they been poetic souls (who will ever know), might have partaken of this. In truth, there are no words that could adequately explain such feelings of dread, of inescapable doom, because at such places words must turn back in resignation. I think you have helped to bridge the gap between the living and the inexpressible fear that haunts each of us, who if not literally at least metaphorically dig our own graves, and for whom it is the work of a lifetime...we are all Robert Scarlett in that sense. Technically, the structure of your poem is simple, at least at a superficial glance, and that is part of what gives it its resonance. The refrains with repetition are a profound idea, a sort of verbal exclamation point at the end of each stanza. The sheer lexical density that is packed into four couplets, a triplet, and the refrain, repeated four times over, is fabulous. The allusions are wonderful because of their simplicity and familiarity to all men. But what is most remarkable about this poem is its rhythm, eight syllables per line (four beats that resound like four hooves), a steady galloping beat that is itself the work of sixteen hooves (four couplets in each of four stanzas), hooves that gallop until poem's end; they serve as the inescapable reminder of the gallop of the Four Horsemen who ride until life's end, indeed beyond. They do indeed ride from John O'Groats unto Lands End, over all of this our land, our life, and the gallop of your rhythm, your ingenious invention, will reverberate in my head I feel forever. This is a powerful reminder of what poetry can, and should, do. You have reminded us that all of us, even those who for one reason or another have failed to give this powerful poem a careful and appreciative reading stand knee-deep in death and have no choice but to continue the work that has been assigned us. We are all gravediggers, and are fortunate that a few, including yourself, are also poets.
