Three Kinds Of A Rogue Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDDDEEDDDDFFDD GGDDDDHHH DDIIJKHHHHHHHHAALLHH H DDDDFFMMDDNOKKHHPPDD DDDDEEDDQQRRSSHHKKDD HHGGG PPDDDDTTUUDD

Sharon ambitious of immortal shameA
Fame's dead wall daubed with his illustrious nameA
Served in the Senate for our sins his timeB
Each word a folly and each vote a crimeB
Law for our governance well skilled to makeC
By knowledge gained in study how to breakC
Yet still by the presiding eye ignoredD
Which only sought him when too loud he snoredD
Auspicious thunder when he woke to voteD
He stilled his own to cut his country's throatD
That rite performed fell off again to sleepE
While statesmen ages dead awoke to weepE
For sedentary service all unfitD
By lying long disqualified to sitD
Wasting below as he decayed aloftD
His seat grown harder as his brain grew softD
He left the hall he could not bring awayF
And grateful millions blessed the happy dayF
Whate'er contention in that hall is heardD
His sovereign State has still the final wordD
For disputatious statesmen when they roarG
Startle the ancient echoes of his snoreG
Which from their dusty nooks expostulateD
And close with stormy clamor the debateD
To low melodious thunders then they fadeD
Their murmuring lullabies all ears invadeD
Peace takes the Chair the portal Silence keepsH
No motion stirs the dark Lethean deepsH
Washoe has spoken and the Senate sleepsH
-
-
Lo the new Sharon with a new intentD
Making no laws but keen to circumventD
The laws of Nature since he can't repealI
That break his failing body on the wheelI
As Tantalus again and yet againJ
The elusive wave endeavors to restrainK
To slake his awful thirst so Sharon triesH
To purchase happiness that age deniesH
Obtains the shadow but the substance goesH
And hugs the thorn but cannot keep the roseH
For Dead Sea fruits bids prodigally eatsH
And then with tardy reformation cheatsH
Alert his faculties as three score yearsH
And four score vices will permit he nearsH
Dicing with Death the finish of the gameA
And curses still his candle's wasting flameA
The narrow circle of whose feeble glowL
Dims and diminishes at every throwL
Moments his losses pleasures are his gainsH
Which even in his grasp revert to painsH
The joy of grasping them alone remainsH
-
-
Ring up the curtain and the play protractD
Behold our Sharon in his last mad actD
With man long warring quarreling with GodD
He crouches now beneath a woman's rodD
Predestined for his back while yet it layF
Closed in an acorn which one luckless dayF
He stole unconscious of its foetal twigM
From the scant garner of a sightless pigM
With bleeding shoulders pitilessly scoredD
He bawls more lustily than once he snoredD
The sympathetic Comstocks droop to hearN
And Carson river sheds a viscous tearO
Which sturdy tumble bugs assail amainK
With ready thrift and urge along the plainK
The jackass rabbit sorrows as he lopesH
The sage brush glooms along the mountain slopesH
In rising clouds the poignant alkaliP
Tearless itself makes everybody cryP
Washoe canaries on the Geiger GradeD
Subdue the singing of their cavalcadeD
And wiping with their ears the tears unshedD
Grieve for their family's unlucky headD
Virginia City intermits her tradeD
And well clad strangers walk her streets unflayedD
Nay all Nevada ceases work to weepE
And the recording angel goes to sleepE
But in his dreams his goose quill's creaking fountD
Augments the debits in the long accountD
And still the continents and oceans ringQ
With royal torments of the Silver KingQ
Incessant bellowings fill all the earthR
Mingled with inextinguishable mirthR
He roars men laugh Nevadans weep beasts howlS
Plash the affrighted fish and shriek the fowlS
With monstrous din their blended thunders riseH
Peal upon peal and brawl along the skiesH
Startle in hell the Sharons as they groanK
And shake the splendors of the great white throneK
Still roaring outward through the vast profoundD
The spreading circles of receding soundD
Pursue each other in a failing raceH
To the cold confines of eternal spaceH
There break and die along that awful shoreG
Which God's own eyes have never dared exploreG
Dark fearful formless nameless evermoreG
-
Look to the west Against yon steely skyP
Lone Mountain rears its holy cross on highP
About its base the meek faced dead are laidD
To share the benediction of its shadeD
With crossed white hands shut eyes and formal feetD
Their nights are innocent their days discreetD
Sharon some years perchance remain of lifeT
Of vice and greed vulgarity and strifeT
And then God speed the day if such His willU
You'll lie among the dead you helped to killU
And be in good society at lastD
Your purse unsilvered and your face unbrassedD

Ambrose Bierce



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