Letter To Sainte-beuve Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCDEFFGGFHIJGGKLMN OOPPQQGGRRSSTUSUSUSS VVUUWWGGXYVVVVUZVVA2 B2C2C2GGSSSSVVUUVVVG D2WOn the old oak benches more shiny and polished | A |
than links of a chain that were each day burnished | A |
rubbed by our human flesh we still un bearded | B |
trailed our ennui hunched round shouldered | C |
under the four square heaven of solitude | D |
where a child drinks study s tart ten year brew | E |
It was in those days outstanding and memorable | F |
when the teachers forced to loosen our classical | F |
fetters yet all still hostile to your rhyming | G |
succumbed to the pressure of our mad duelling | G |
and allowed a triumphant mutinous pupil | F |
to make Triboulet howl in Latin at will | H |
Which of us in those days of pale adolescence | I |
didn t share the weary torpor of confinement | J |
eyes lost in the dreary blue of a summer sky | G |
or the snowfall s whiteness we were dazzled by | G |
ears pricked eager waiting a pack of hounds | K |
drinking some book s far echo a riot s sound | L |
Most of all in summer that melted the leads | M |
the walls high blackened filled with dread | N |
with the scorching heat or when autumn haze | O |
lit the sky with its one monotonous blaze | O |
and made the screeching falcons fall asleep | P |
white pigeons terrors in their slender keep | P |
the season of reverie when the Muse clings | Q |
through the endless day to some bell that rings | Q |
when Melancholy at noon when all is drowsing | G |
at the corridor s end chin in hand dragging | G |
eyes bluer and darker than Diderot s Nun | R |
that sad obscene tale known to everyone | R |
her feet weighed down by premature ennui | S |
her brow from night s moist languor un free | S |
and unhealthy evenings then feverish nights | T |
that make young girls love their bodies outright | U |
and sterile pleasure gaze in their mirrors to see | S |
the ripening fruits of their own nubility | U |
Italian evenings of thoughtless lethargy | S |
when knowledge of false delights is revealed | U |
when sombre Venus on her high black balcony | S |
out of cool censers waves of musk sets free | S |
In this war of enervating circumstances | V |
matured by your sonnets prepared by your stanzas | V |
one evening having sensed the soul of your art | U |
I transported Amaury s story into my heart | U |
Every mystical void is but two steps away | W |
from doubt The potion drop by drop day by day | W |
filtering through me I drawn to the abyss since I | G |
was fifteen who swiftly deciphered Ren s sigh | G |
I parched by some strange thirst for the unknown | X |
within the smallest of arteries made its home | Y |
I absorbed it all the perfumes the miasmas | V |
the long vanished memories sweetest whispers | V |
the drawn out tangle of phrases their symbols | V |
the rosaries murmuring in mystical madrigals | V |
a voluptuous book if ever one was brewed | U |
Now whether I m deep in some leafy refuge | Z |
or in the sun of a second hemispheres days | V |
the eternal swell swaying the ocean waves | V |
the view of endless horizons always re born | A2 |
draw my heart to the dream divine once more | B2 |
be it in heavy languor of burning summer | C2 |
or shivering idleness of early December | C2 |
beneath tobacco smoke clouds hiding the ceiling | G |
through the book s subtle mystery always leafing | G |
a book so dear to those numb souls whose destiny | S |
has one and all stamped them with that same malady | S |
in front of the mirror I ve perfected the cruelty | S |
of the art that at birth some demon granted me | S |
art of that pain that creates true voluptuousness | V |
scratching the wound to draw blood from my distress | V |
Poet is it an insult or a well turned compliment | U |
For regarding you I m like a lover to all intent | U |
faced with a ghost whose gestures are caresses | V |
with hand eye of unknown charms who blesses | V |
in order to drain one s strength All loved beings | V |
are cups of venom one drinks with eyes unseeing | G |
and the heart that s once transfixed seduced by pain | D2 |
finds death while still blessing the arrow every day | W |
Charles Baudelaire
(1)
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