Censor Literarum Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABBACC DEDEEEFF FGFGGEFF HFHFHII| So Parson Stebbins you've released your chin | A |
| To say that here and here we press folk ail | B |
| 'Tis a great thing an editor to skin | A |
| And hang his faulty pelt upon a nail | B |
| If over eared it has at least no tail | B |
| And for an admonition against sin | A |
| Point out its maculations with a rod | C |
| And act in short the gentleman of God | C |
| - | |
| 'Twere needless cruelty to spoil your sport | D |
| By comment critical or merely rude | E |
| But you too have according to report | D |
| Despite your posing as a holy dude | E |
| Imperfect spiritual pulchritude | E |
| For so severe a judge May't please the court | E |
| We shall appeal and take our case at once | F |
| Before that higher court a taller dunce | F |
| - | |
| Sir what were you without the press What spreads | F |
| The fame of your existence once a week | G |
| From the Pacific Mail dock to the Heads | F |
| Warning the people you're about to wreak | G |
| Upon the human ear your Sunday freak | G |
| Whereat the most betake them to their bed | E |
| Though some prefer to slumber in the pews | F |
| And nod assent to your hypnotic views | F |
| - | |
| Unhappy man can you not still your tongue | H |
| When like a luckless brat afflict with worms | F |
| By cruel fleas intolerably stung | H |
| Or with a pang in its small lap it squirms | F |
| Still must it vulgarize your feats of lung | H |
| No preaching better were the sun beneath | I |
| If you had nothing there behind your teeth | I |
Ambrose Bierce
(1)
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