The Witch Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBBBCCDDEEFFGGHHII JJKKLLEEBBMMNONFFBBI IIPPAAQQIR| Trapped amid the woods with guile | A |
| They've led her bound in fetters vile | A |
| To death a deadlier sorceress | B |
| Than any born for earth's distress | B |
| Since first the winner of the fleece | B |
| Bore home the Colchian witch to Greece | B |
| Seven months with snare and gin | C |
| They've sought the maid o'erwise within | C |
| The forest's labyrinthine shade | D |
| The lonely woodman half afraid | D |
| Far off her ragged form has seen | E |
| Sauntering down the alleys green | E |
| Or crouched in godless prayer alone | F |
| At eve before a Druid stone | F |
| But now the bitter chase is won | G |
| The quarry's caught her magic's done | G |
| The bishop's brought her strongest spell | H |
| To naught with candle book and bell | H |
| With holy water splashed upon her | I |
| She goes to burning and dishonour | I |
| Too deeply damned to feel her shame | J |
| For though beneath her hair of flame | J |
| Her thoughtful head be lowly bowed | K |
| It droops for meditation proud | K |
| Impenitent and pondering yet | L |
| Things no memory can forget | L |
| Starry wonders she has seen | E |
| Brooding in the wildwood green | E |
| With holiness For who can say | B |
| In what strange crew she loved to play | B |
| What demons or what gods of old | M |
| Deep mysteries unto her have told | M |
| At dead of night in worship bent | N |
| At ruined shrines magnificent | O |
| Or how the quivering will she sent | N |
| Alone into the great alone | F |
| Where all is loved and all is known | F |
| Who now lifts up her maiden eyes | B |
| And looks around with soft surprise | B |
| Upon the noisy crowded square | I |
| The city oafs that nod and stare | I |
| The bishop's court that gathers there | I |
| The faggots and the blackened stake | P |
| Where sinners die for justice' sake | P |
| Now she is set upon the pile | A |
| The mob grows still a little while | A |
| Till lo before the eager folk | Q |
| Up curls a thin blue line of smoke | Q |
| 'Alas ' the full fed burghers cry | I |
| 'That evil loveliness must die ' | R |
Clive Staples Lewis
(1)
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