The Transmigrations Of A Soul Poem Rhyme Scheme

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What Pixley must I hear you call the roll	A
Of all the vices that infest your soul	A
Was't not enough that lately you did bawl	B
Your money worship in the ears of all	B
Still must you crack your brazen cheek to tell	C
That though a miser you're a sot as well	C
Still must I hear how low your taste has sunk	D
From getting money down to getting drunk	D
	-
Who worships money damning all beside	E
And shows his callous knees with pious pride	E
Speaks with half knowledge for no man e'er scorns	F
His own possessions be they coins or corns	F
You've money neighbor had you gentle birth	G
You'd know as now you never can its worth	G
	-
You've money learning is beyond your scope	H
Deaf to your envy stubborn to your hope	H
But if upon your undeserving head	I
Science and letters had their glory shed	I
If in the cavern of your skull the light	J
Of knowledge shone where now eternal night	J
Breeds the blind poddy vapor fatted naughts	F
Of cerebration that you think are thoughts	F
Black bats in cold and dismal corners hung	K
That squeak and gibber when you move your tongue	K
You would not write in Avarice's defense	F
A senseless eulogy on lack of sense	F
Nor show your eagerness to sacrifice	F
All noble virtues to one loathsome vice	F
	-
You've money if you'd manners too you'd shame	L
To boast your weakness or your baseness name	L
Appraise the things you have but measure not	M
The things denied to your unhappy lot	M
He values manners lighter than a cork	N
Who combs his beard at table with a fork	N
Hare to seek sin and tortoise to forsake	O
The laws of taste condemn you to the stake	O
To expiate where all the world may see	F
The crime of growing old disgracefully	C
	-
Religion learning birth and manners too	P
All that distinguishes a man from you	P
Pray damn at will all shining virtues gain	Q
An added luster from a rogue's disdain	Q
But spare the young that proselyting sin	R
A toper's apotheosis of gin	R
If not our young at least our pigs may claim	L
Exemption from the spectacle of shame	L
	-
Are you not he who lately out of shape	S
Blew a brass trumpet to denounce the grape	S
Who led the brave teetotalers afield	T
And slew your leader underneath your shield	T
Swore that no man should drink unless he flung	K
Himself across your body at the bung	K
Who vowed if you'd the power you would fine	U
The Son of God for making water wine	U
	-
All trails to odium you tread and boast	V
Yourself enamored of the dirtiest most	V
One day to be a miser you aspire	W
The next to wallow drunken in the mire	W
The third lo you're a meritorious liar	X
Pray in the catalogue of all your graces	F
Have theft and cowardice no honored places	F
	-
Yield thee great Satan here's a rival name	L
With all thy vices and but half thy shame	L
Quick to the letter of the precept quick	Y
To the example of the elder Nick	Y
With as great talent as was e'er applied	E
To fool a teacher and to fog a guide	E
With slack allegiance and boundless greed	Z
To paunch the profit of a traitor deed	Z
He aims to make thy glory all his own	A2
And crowd his master from the infernal throne	A2

Ambrose Bierce

The Transmigrations Of A Soul Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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