The Five Nations, Volume II — Reading Notes

Repetition as Structure and Theme

Several poems in this volume are built on insistent repetition. “Columns” uses a refrain—“Time, an’ ’igh time to be trekkin’ again!”—that recurs after nearly every stanza, mimicking the cyclical, monotonous nature of military movement. The poem catalogues identical routines: “Same bloomin’ ’ole which the ant-bear ’as broke, / Same bloomin’ stumble an’ same bloomin’ joke.” This verbal repetition mirrors the soldiers' experience of endless, identical days. Similarly, “The Parting of the Columns” repeats the line “Good-bye—good luck to you!” at the end of each stanza, turning a farewell into a rhythmic chant. The effect is to emphasize the grinding sameness of campaign life, where even leave-taking becomes a ritual.

Colloquial Voice and the Soldier's Perspective

Kipling adopts a demotic, often humorous soldier's idiom in poems like “Columns” and “The Parting of the Columns.” The speaker uses contractions and slang: “’Ark to ’em blessin’ the Gen’ral in bed!” and “We’ve rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations come to hand.” This voice is not merely decorative; it conveys a specific attitude—world-weary, stoic, and irreverent. In “Columns,” the soldier describes the same messy fight and the “same quiet face which ’as finished with all,” undercutting heroism with blunt fact. The colloquial register also creates intimacy, as if the reader is overhearing a private conversation among troops. Kipling does not idealize these men; he lets them speak in their own cadence, with all their fatigue and dark humor.

Shifts in Pace and Meter

The volume's poems vary markedly in pace, from the stately, measured lines of “The Old Issue” to the rapid, marching rhythm of “Boots.” In “The Old Issue,” the long lines and repeated “Trumpets” create a ceremonial, almost processional feel. By contrast, “Boots” uses a driving, anapestic meter: “We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa!” The dashes and repetition of “slog” force a percussive, exhausted pace. “Columns” alternates between a longer refrain line and shorter, punchier descriptions, creating a stop-start rhythm that mirrors the halting progress of a column. These metrical choices are not arbitrary; they reinforce the emotional and physical experience of the campaign—from the solemnity of historical reflection to the bone-weariness of marching.

Readers attentive to voice will notice how Kipling uses dialect not as mere local color but as a structural element that shapes tone and meaning. The poems reward careful attention to their refrains and metrical shifts, which often carry as much weight as their explicit statements. Approaching this volume as a study in contrasting registers—rather than a unified patriotic statement—reveals its complexity and its quiet skepticism about the cost of empire.

I keep thinking about how Kipling let the soldiers’ voices interrupt the grand speeches, that ache between what’s said and what’s endured. It reminded me of something quieter, almost accidental—A drunk man looks at the thistle — Reading Notes—where beauty shows up sideways, worn down, and still stubbornly alive. That lingering hum stayed with me for days.