Dolores Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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NOTRE DAME DES SEPT DOULEURSA
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Cold eyelids that hide like a jewelB
Hard eyes that grow soft for an hourC
The heavy white limbs and the cruelB
Red mouth like a venomous flowerC
When these are gone by with their gloriesA
What shall rest of thee then what remainD
O mystic and sombre DoloresA
Our Lady of PainD
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Seven sorrows the priests give their VirginE
But thy sins which are seventy times sevenF
Seven ages would fail thee to purge inE
And then they would haunt thee in heavenF
Fierce midnights and famishing morrowsA
And the loves that complete and controlG
All the joys of the flesh all the sorrowsA
That wear out the soulG
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O garment not golden but gildedH
O garden where all men may dwellI
O tower not of ivory but buildedH
By hands that reach heaven from hellI
O mystical rose of the mireJ
O house not of gold but of gainD
O house of unquenchable fireC
Our Lady of PainD
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O lips full of lust and of laughterC
Curled snakes that are fed from my breastH
Bite hard lest remembrance come afterC
And press with new lips where you pressedH
For my heart too springs up at the pressureC
Mine eyelids too moisten and burnK
Ah feed me and fill me with pleasureC
Ere pain come in turnK
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In yesterday's reach and to morrow'sA
Out of sight though they lie of to dayH
There have been and there yet shall be sorrowsA
That smite not and bite not in playH
The life and the love thou despisestH
These hurt us indeed and in vainD
O wise among women and wisestH
Our Lady of PainD
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Who gave thee thy wisdom what storiesA
That stung thee what visions that smoteH
Wert thou pure and a maiden DoloresA
When desire took thee first by the throatH
What bud was the shell of a blossomL
That all men may smell to and pluckM
What milk fed thee first at what bosomL
What sins gave thee suckM
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We shift and bedeck and bedrape usA
Thou art noble and nude and antiqueN
Libitina thy mother PriapusA
Thy father a Tuscan and GreekN
We play with light loves in the portalB
And wince and relent and refrainD
Loves die and we know thee immortalB
Our Lady of PainD
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Fruits fail and love dies and time rangesA
Thou art fed with perpetual breathO
And alive after infinite changesA
And fresh from the kisses of deathO
Of languors rekindled and ralliedH
Of barren delights and uncleanP
Things monstrous and fruitless a pallidH
And poisonous queenP
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Could you hurt me sweet lips though I hurt youQ
Men touch them and change in a triceA
The lilies and languors of virtueQ
For the raptures and roses of viceA
Those lie where thy foot on the floor isA
These crown and caress thee and chainD
O splendid and sterile DoloresA
Our Lady of PainD
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There are sins it may be to discoverC
There are deeds it may be to delightH
What new work wilt thou find for thy loverC
What new passions for daytime or nightH
What spells that they know not a word ofR
Whose lives are as leaves overblownS
What tortures undreamt of unheard ofR
Unwritten unknownS
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Ah beautiful passionate bodyH
That never has ached with a heartH
On thy mouth though the kisses are bloodyH
Though they sting till it shudder and smartH
More kind than the love we adore isA
They hurt not the heart or the brainD
O bitter and tender DoloresA
Our Lady of PainD
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As our kisses relax and redoubleB
From the lips and the foam and the fangsA
Shall no new sin be born for men's troubleB
No dream of impossible pangsA
With the sweet of the sins of old agesA
Wilt thou satiate thy soul as of yoreT
Too sweet is the rind say the sagesA
Too bitter the coreT
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Hast thou told all thy secrets the last timeU
And bared all thy beauties to oneF
Ah where shall we go then for pastimeU
If the worst that can be has been doneF
But sweet as the rind was the core isA
We are fain of thee still we are fainD
O sanguine and subtle DoloresA
Our Lady of PainD
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By the hunger of change and emotionF
By the thirst of unbearable thingsA
By despair the twin born of devotionF
By the pleasure that winces and stingsA
The delight that consumes the desireC
The desire that outruns the delightH
By the cruelty deaf as a fireC
And blind as the nightH
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By the ravenous teeth that have smittenF
Through the kisses that blossom and budH
By the lips intertwisted and bittenF
Till the foam has a savour of bloodH
By the pulse as it rises and faltersA
By the hands as they slacken and strainD
I adjure thee respond from thine altarsA
Our Lady of PainD
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Wilt thou smile as a woman disdainingV
The light fire in the veins of a boyW
But he comes to thee sad without feigningV
Who has wearied of sorrow and joyW
Less careful of labour and gloryH
Than the elders whose hair has uncurledH
And young but with fancies as hoaryH
And grey as the worldH
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I have passed from the outermost portalB
To the shrine where a sin is a prayerX
What care though the service be mortalB
O our Lady of Torture what careX
All thine the last wine that I pour isA
The last in the chalice we drainD
O fierce and luxurious DoloresA
Our Lady of PainD
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All thine the new wine of desireC
The fruit of four lips as they clungY
Till the hair and the eyelids took fireC
The foam of a serpentine tongueY
The froth of the serpents of pleasureC
More salt than the foam of the seaH
Now felt as a flame now at leisureC
As wine shed for meH
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Ah thy people thy children thy chosenF
Marked cross from the womb and perverseA
They have found out the secret to cozenF
The gods that constrain us and curseA
They alone they are wise and none otherC
Give me place even me in their trainF
O my sister my spouse and my motherC
Our Lady of PainF
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For the crown of our life as it closesA
Is darkness the fruit thereof dustH
No thorns go as deep as a rose'sA
And love is more cruel than lustH
Time turns the old days to derisionF
Our loves into corpses or wivesA
And marriage and death and divisionF
Make barren our livesA
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And pale from the past we draw nigh theeH
And satiate with comfortless hoursA
And we know thee how all men belie theeH
And we gather the fruit of thy flowersA
The passion that slays and recoversA
The pangs and the kisses that rainF
On the lips and the limbs of thy loversA
Our Lady of PainF
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The desire of thy furious embracesA
Is more than the wisdom of yearsA
On the blossom though blood lie in tracesA
Though the foliage be sodden with tearsA
For the lords in whose keeping the door isA
That opens on all who draw breathO
Gave the cypress to love my DoloresA
The myrtle to deathO
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And they laughed changing hands in the measureC
And they mixed and made peace after strifeZ
Pain melted in tears and was pleasureC
Death tingled with blood and was lifeZ
Like lovers they melted and tingledH
In the dusk of thine innermost faneF
In the darkness they murmured and mingledH
Our Lady of PainF
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In a twilight where virtues are vicesA
In thy chapels unknown of the sunF
To a tune that enthralls and enticesA
They were wed and the twain were as oneF
For the tune from thine altar hath soundedH
Since God bade the world's work beginF
And the fume of thine incense aboundedH
To sweeten the sinF
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Love listens and paler than ashesA
Through his curls as the crown on them slipsA
Lifts languid wet eyelids and lashesA
And laughs with insatiable lipsA
Thou shalt hush him with heavy caressesA
With music that scares the profaneF
Thou shalt darken his eyes with thy tressesA
Our Lady of PainF
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Thou shalt blind his bright eyes though he wrestleB
Thou shalt chain his light limbs though he striveA2
In his lips all thy serpents shall nestleB
In his hands all thy cruelties thriveA2
In the daytime thy voice shall go through himB2
In his dreams he shall feel thee and acheC2
Thou shalt kindle by night and subdue himB2
Asleep and awakeC2
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Thou shalt touch and make redder his rosesA
With juice not of fruit nor of budH
When the sense in the spirit reposesA
Thou shalt quicken the soul through the bloodH
Thine thine the one grace we implore isA
Who would live and not languish or feignF
O sleepless and deadly DoloresA
Our Lady of PainF
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Dost thou dream in a respite of slumberC
In a lull of the fires of thy lifeZ
Of the days without name without numberC
When thy will stung the world into strifeZ
When a goddess the pulse of thy passionF
Smote kings as they revelled in RomeD2
And they hailed thee re risen O ThalassianF
Foam white from the foamD2
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When thy lips had such lovers to flatterC
When the city lay red from thy rodsA
And thine hands were as arrows to scatterC
The children of change and their godsA
When the blood of thy foemen made ferventH
A sand never moist from the mainF
As one smote them their lord and thy servantH
Our Lady of PainF
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On sands by the storm never shakenF
Nor wet from the washing of tidesA
Nor by foam of the waves overtakenF
Nor winds that the thunder bestridesA
But red from the print of thy pacesA
Made smooth for the world and its lordsA
Ringed round with a flame of fair facesA
And splendid with swordsA
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There the gladiator pale for thy pleasureC
Drew bitter and perilous breathO
There torments laid hold on the treasureC
Of limbs too delicious for deathO
When thy gardens were lit with live torchesA
When the world was a steed for thy reinF
When the nations lay prone in thy porchesA
Our Lady of PainF
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When with flame all around him aspirantH
Stood flushed as a harp player standsA
The implacable beautiful tyrantH
Rose crowned having death in his handsA
And a sound as the sound of loud waterC
Smote far through the flight of the firesA
And mixed with the lightning of slaughterC
A thunder of lyresA
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Dost thou dream of what was and no more isA
The old kingdoms of earth and the kingsA
Dost thou hunger for these things DoloresA
For these in a world of new thingsA
But thy bosom no fasts could emaciateH
No hunger compel to complainF
Those lips that no bloodshed could satiateH
Our Lady of PainF
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As of old when the world's heart was lighterC
Through thy garments the grace of thee glowsA
The white wealth of thy body made whiterC
By the blushes of amorous blowsA
And seamed with sharp lips and fierce fingersA
And branded by kisses that bruiseA
When all shall be gone that now lingersA
Ah what shall we loseA
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Thou wert fair in the fearless old fashionF
And thy limbs are as melodies yetH
And move to the music of passionF
With lithe and lascivious regretH
What ailed us O gods to desert youQ
For creeds that refuse and restrainF
Come down and redeem us from virtueQ
Our Lady of PainF
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All shrines that were Vestal are flamelessA
But the flame has not fallen from thisA
Though obscure be the god and though namelessA
The eyes and the hair that we kissA
Low fires that love sits by and forgesA
Fresh heads for his arrows and thineF
Hair loosened and soiled in mid orgiesA
With kisses and wineF
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Thy skin changes country and colourC
And shrivels or swells to a snake'sA
Let it brighten and bloat and grow dullerC
We know it the flames and the flakesA
Red brands on it smitten and bittenF
Round skies where a star is a stainF
And the leaves with thy litanies writtenF
Our Lady of PainF
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On thy bosom though many a kiss beH
There are none such as knew it of oldH
Was it Alciphron once or ArisbeH
Male ringlets or feminine goldH
That thy lips met with under the statueQ
Whence a look shot out sharp after thievesA
From the eyes of the garden god at youQ
Across the fig leavesA
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Then still through dry seasons and moisterC
One god had a wreath to his shrineF
Then love was the pearl of his oysterC
And Venus rose red out of wineF
We have all done amiss choosing ratherC
Such loves as the wise gods disdainF
Intercede for us thou with thy fatherC
Our Lady of PainF
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In spring he had crowns of his gardenF
Red corn in the heat of the yearC
Then hoary green olives that hardenF
When the grape blossom freezes with fearC
And milk budded myrtles with VenusA
And vine leaves with Bacchus he trodH
And ye said We have seen he hath seen usA
A visible GodH
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What broke off the garlands that girt youQ
What sundered you spirit and clayH
Weak sins yet alive are as virtueQ
To the strength of the sins of that dayH
For dried is the blood of thy loverC
Ipsithilla contracted the veinF
Cry aloud Will he rise and recoverC
Our Lady of PainF
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Cry aloud for the old world is brokenF
Cry out for the Phrygian is priestH
And rears not the bountiful tokenF
And spreads not the fatherly feastH
From the midmost of Ida from shadyH
Recesses that murmur at mornF
They have brought and baptized her Our LadyH
A goddess new bornF
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And the chaplets of old are above usA
And the oyster bed teems out of reachE2
Old poets outsing and outlove usA
And Catullus makes mouths at our speechE2
Who shall kiss in thy father's own cityH
With such lips as he sang with againF
Intercede for us all of thy pityH
Our Lady of PainF
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Out of Dindymus heavily ladenF
Her lions draw bound and unfedH
A mother a mortal a maidenF
A queen over death and the deadH
She is cold and her habit is lowlyH
Her temple of branches and sodsA
Most fruitful and virginal holyH
A mother of godsA
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She hath wasted with fire thine high placesA
She hath hidden and marred and made sadH
The fair limbs of the Loves the fair facesA
Of gods that were goodly and gladH
She slays and her hands are not bloodyH
She moves as a moon in the waneF
White robed and thy raiment is ruddyH
Our Lady of PainF
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They shall pass and their places be takenF
The gods and the priests that are pureC
They shall pass and shalt thou not be shakenF
They shall perish and shalt thou endureC
Death laughs breathing close and relentlessA
In the nostrils and eyelids of lustH
With a pinch in his fingers of scentlessA
And delicate dustH
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But the worm shall revive thee with kissesA
Thou shalt change and transmute as a godH
As the rod to a serpent that hissesA
As the serpent again to a rodH
Thy life shall not cease though thou doff itH
Thou shalt live until evil be slainF
And good shall die first said thy prophetH
Our Lady of PainF
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Did he lie did he laugh does he know itH
Now he lies out of reach out of breathO
Thy prophet thy preacher thy poetH
Sin's child by incestuous DeathO
Did he find out in fire at his wakingV
Or discern as his eyelids lost lightH
When the bands of the body were breakingV
And all came in sightH
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Who has known all the evil before usA
Or the tyrannous secrets of timeU
Though we match not the dead men that bore usA
At a song at a kiss at a crimeU
Though the heathen outface and outlive usA
And our lives and our longings are twainF
Ah forgive us our virtues forgive usA
Our Lady of PainF
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Who are we that embalm and embrace theeH
With spices and savours of songF2
What is time that his children should face theeH
What am I that my lips do thee wrongF2
I could hurt thee but pain would delight theeH
Or caress thee but love would repelI
And the lovers whose lips would excite theeH
Are serpents in hellI
-
Who now shall content thee as they didH
Thy lovers when temples were builtH
And the hair of the sacrifice braidedH
And the blood of the sacrifice spiltH
In Lampsacus fervent with facesA
In Aphaca red from thy reignF
Who embraced thee with awful embracesA
Our Lady of PainF
-
Where are they Cotytto or VenusA
Astarte or Ashtaroth whereC
Do their hands as we touch come between usA
Is the breath of them hot in thy hairC
From their lips have thy lips taken feverC
With the blood of their bodies grown redH
Hast thou left upon earth a believerC
If these men are deadH
-
They were purple of raiment and goldenF
Filled full of thee fiery with wineF
Thy lovers in haunts unbeholdenF
In marvellous chambers of thineF
They are fled and their footprints escape usA
Who appraise thee adore and abstainF
O daughter of Death and PriapusA
Our Lady of PainF
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What ails us to fear overmeasureC
To praise thee with timorous breathO
O mistress and mother of pleasureC
The one thing as certain as deathO
We shall change as the things that we cherishG2
Shall fade as they faded beforeC
As foam upon water shall perishG2
As sand upon shoreC
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We shall know what the darkness discoversA
If the grave pit be shallow or deepH2
And our fathers of old and our loversA
We shall know if they sleep not or sleepH2
We shall see whether hell be not heavenF
Find out whether tares be not grainF
And the joys of thee seventy times sevenF
Our Lady of PainF

Algernon Charles Swinburne



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