Author: Rudyard Kipling
What is the song the children sing, When doorway lilacs bloom in Spring, And the Schools are loosed, and the games are played That were deadly earnest when Earth was made? Hear them chattering, shrill and hard, After dinner-time, out in the yard, As the sides are chosen and all submit To the chance of the lot that shall make them "It." (Singing) "Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Catch a nigger by the toe! (If he hollers let him go! Eenee, Meenee. Mainee, Mo! You-are-It!" Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, and Mo Were the First Big Four of the Long Ago, When the Pole of the Earth sloped thirty degrees, And Central Europe began to freeze, And they needed Ambassadors staunch and stark To steady the Tribes in the gathering dark: But the frost was fierce and flesh was frail, So they launched a Magic that could not fail. (Singing) "Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Hear the wolves across the snow! Some one has to kill 'em, so Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make, you, It!" Slowly the Glacial Epoch passed, Central Europe thawed out at last; And, under the slush of the melting snows The first dim shapes of the Nations rose. Rome, Britannia, Belgium, Gaul, Flood and avalanche fathered them all; And the First Big Four, as they watched the mess, Pitied Man in his helplessness. (Singing) "Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Trouble starts When Nations grow, Some one has to stop it, so Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Make-you-It!" Thus it happened, but none can tell What was the Power behind the spell, Fear, or Duty, or Pride, or Faith, That sent men shuddering out to death, To cold and watching, and, worse than these, Work, more work, when they looked for ease, To the days discomfort, the nights despair, In the hope of a prize that they never could share, (Singing) "Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Man is born to Toil and Woe. One will cure another-so Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make-you-It!" Once and again, as the Ice went North The grass crept up to the Firth of Forth. Once and again, as the Ice came South The glaciers ground over Lossiemouth. But, grass or glacier, cold or hot, The men went out who would rather not, And fought with the Tiger, the Pig and the Ape, To hammer the world into decent shape. (Singing) "Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! What's the use of doing so? Ask the Gods, for we don't know; But Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make-us-It!" Nothing is left of that terrible rune But a tag of gibberish tacked to a tune That ends the waiting and settles the claims Of children arguing over their games; For never yet has a boy been found To shirk his turn when the turn came round; Nor even a girl has been known to say "If you laugh at me I shan't play." For, "Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo, (Don't you let the grown-ups know! ) You may hate it ever so, But if you're chose you're bound to go, When Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make-you-It!"
Type of Poem: Narrative Poem
Date Written:
Date Published:
Language: English
Keywords: Public Domain
Source: Public Domain Collection
Publisher:
Rights/Permissions: Public Domain
Comments/Notes: This poem is a sophisticated exploration of our shared human history and the cyclical nature of societal growth and decline. It employs a familiar children's rhyme as a recurring motif to underscore the themes of inevitability, responsibility, and fate. The poem starts by drawing us into a vivid and nostalgic scene of children playing in springtime, then it skillfully transitions into a macrocosmic view of human evolution and societal development.
The narrative is structured chronologically, moving from the early tribal societies to the advent of nations and the struggles inherent in their formation. Each stanza concludes with a variation of the same children's rhyme, cleverly adapted to reflect the specific challenges faced by people in that era. This repetition serves to reinforce the continuity of human experience across time and space, while also illustrating how societal roles and responsibilities are often determined by forces beyond our control, akin to children choosing who is "It" in a game.
The poem's tone fluctuates between the playful, the solemn, and the contemplative, mirroring the varied nature of human existence. The poet's use of vivid imagery and metaphor, such as "the grass crept up to the Firth of Forth" or "the glaciers ground over Lossiemouth," effectively conveys the earth's continuous transformation and the human struggle to adapt.
In conclusion, this poem uses its structure, themes, and literary devices to offer a thoughtful and complex reflection on the cyclical nature of human history, the inevitability of change, and the roles we are all chosen to play.
Narrative poetry is a form of poetry that tells a story, often making use of the voices of a narrator and characters as well. Unlike lyric poetry, which focuses on emotions and thoughts, narrative poetry is dedicated to storytelling, weaving tales that captivate readers through plot and character development.
Narrative poems are unique in their ability to combine the depth of storytelling with the expressive qualities of poetry. Here are some defining characteristics:
From ancient epics like "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" to more modern narrative poems, this form continues to engage readers by blending the art of storytelling with the beauty and rhythm of poetry.