George A. Knight Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDBBEEFFBB GGHHIIJJKKBB KKLLBBBB BBLLBBKKGGMM| Attorney Knight it happens so sometimes | A |
| That lawyers justifying cut throats' crimes | A |
| For hire calumniating too for gold | B |
| The dead dumb victims cruelly unsouled | B |
| Speak through the press to a tribunal far | C |
| More honorable than their Honors are | C |
| A court that sits not with assenting smile | D |
| While living rogues dead gentleman revile | D |
| A court where scoundrel ethics of your trade | B |
| Confuse no judgment and no cheating aid | B |
| The Court of Honest Souls where you in vain | E |
| May plead your right to falsify for gain | E |
| Sternly reminded if a man engage | F |
| To serve assassins for the liar's wage | F |
| His mouth with vilifying falsehoods crammed | B |
| He's twice detestable and doubly damned | B |
| - | |
| Attorney Knight defending Powell you | G |
| To earn your fee so energetic grew | G |
| So like a hound the pride of all the pack | H |
| Clapping your nose upon the dead man's track | H |
| To run his faults to earth at least proclaim | I |
| At vacant holes the overtaken game | I |
| That men who marked you nourishing the tongue | J |
| And saw your arms so vigorously swung | J |
| All marveled how so light a breeze could stir | K |
| So great a windmill to so great a whirr | K |
| Little they knew or surely they had grinned | B |
| The mill was laboring to raise the wind | B |
| - | |
| Ralph Smith a 'shoulder striker' God O hear | K |
| This hardy man's description of thy dear | K |
| Dead child the gentlest soul save only One | L |
| E'er born in any land beneath the sun | L |
| All silent benefactions still he wrought | B |
| High deed and gracious speech and noble thought | B |
| Kept all thy law and seeking still the right | B |
| Upon his blameless breast received the light | B |
| - | |
| 'Avenge O Lord thy slaughtered saints ' he cried | B |
| Whose wrath was deep as his comparison wide | B |
| Milton thy servant Nay thy will be done | L |
| To smite or spare to me it all is one | L |
| Can vengeance bring my sorrow to an end | B |
| Or justice give me back my buried friend | B |
| But if some Milton vainly now implore | K |
| And Powell prosper as he did before | K |
| Yet 'twere too much that making no ado | G |
| Thy saints be slaughtered and be slandered too | G |
| So Lord make Knight his weapon keep in sheath | M |
| Or do Thou wrest it from between his teeth | M |
Ambrose Bierce
(1)
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