A Winter's Tale Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAC DEDED DFFFF GHGHG IJIJI FFFFF IJIIK IFIFL MFIFM FFFFF FFFFF NCICN FINIO FFFFF PFFFQ RFRFS FIFFI TFFFU VHVHV WIWIW FFFFF FUFUF WFWFW XYZYX FFFFF HA2WFH

er the lakesA
And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the valesB
Gliding windless through the hand folded flakesA
The pale breath of cattle at the stealthy sailC
-
And the stars falling coldD
And the smell of hay in the snow and the far owlE
Warning among the folds and the frozen holdD
Flocked with the sheep white smoke of the farm house cowlE
In the river wended vales where the tale was toldD
-
Once when the world turned oldD
On a star of faith pure as the drifting breadF
As the food and flames of the snow a man unrolledF
The scrolls of fire that burned in his heart and headF
Torn and alone in a farm house in a foldF
-
Of fields And burning thenG
In his firelit island ringed by the winged snowH
And the dung hills white as wool and the henG
Roosts sleeping chill till the flame of the cock crowH
Combs through the mantled yards and the morning menG
-
Stumble out with their spadesI
The cattle stirring the mousing cat stepping shyJ
The puffed birds hopping and hunting the milkmaidsI
Gentle in their clogs over the fallen skyJ
And all the woken farm at its white tradesI
-
He knelt he wept he prayedF
By the spit and the black pot in the log bright lightF
And the cup and the cut bread in the dancing shadeF
In the muffled house in the quick of nightF
At the point of love forsaken and afraidF
-
He knelt on the cold stonesI
He wept form the crest of grief he prayed to the veiled skyJ
May his hunger go howling on bare white bonesI
Past the statues of the stables and the sky roofed stiesI
And the duck pond glass and the blinding byres aloneK
-
Into the home of prayersI
And fires where he should prowl down the cloudF
Of his snow blind love and rush in the white lairsI
His naked need struck him howling and bowedF
Though no sound flowed down the hand folded airL
-
But only the wind strungM
Hunger of birds in the fields of the bread of water tossedF
In high corn and the harvest melting on their tonguesI
And his nameless need bound him burning and lostF
When cold as snow he should run the wended vales amongM
-
The rivers mouthed in nightF
And drown in the drifts of his need and lie curled caughtF
In the always desiring centre of the whiteF
Inhuman cradle and the bride bed forever soughtF
By the believer lost and the hurled outcast of lightF
-
Deliver him he criedF
By losing him all in love and cast his needF
Alone and naked in the engulfing brideF
Never to flourish in the fields of the white seedF
Or flower under the time dying flesh astrideF
-
Listen The minstrels singN
In the departed villages The nightingaleC
Dust in the buried wood flies on the grains of her wingsI
And spells on the winds of the dead his winter's taleC
The voice of the dust of water from the withered springN
-
Is telling The wizenedF
Stream with bells and baying water bounds The dew ringsI
On the gristed leaves and the long gone glisteningN
Parish of snow The carved mouths in the rock are wind swept stringsI
Time sings through the intricately dead snow drop ListenO
-
It was a hand or soundF
In the long ago land that glided the dark door wideF
And there outside on the bread of the groundF
A she bird rose and rayed like a burning brideF
A she bird dawned and her breast with snow and scarlet downedF
-
Look And the dancers moveP
On the departed snow bushed green wanton in moon lightF
As a dust of pigeons Exulting the grave hoovedF
Horses centaur dead turn and tread the drenched whiteF
Paddocks in the farms of birds The dead oak walks for loveQ
-
The carved limbs in the rockR
Leap as to trumpets Calligraphy of the oldF
Leaves is dancing Lines of age on the stones weave in a flockR
And the harp shaped voice of the water's dust plucks in a foldF
Of fields For love the long ago she bird rises LookS
-
And the wild wings were raisedF
Above her folded head and the soft feathered voiceI
Was flying through the house as though the she bird praisedF
And all the elements of the slow fall rejoicedF
That a man knelt alone in the cup of the valesI
-
In the mantle and calmT
By the spit and the black pot in the log bright lightF
And the sky of birds in the plumed voice charmedF
Him up and he ran like a wind after the kindling flightF
Past the blind barns and byres of the windless farmU
-
In the poles of the yearV
When black birds died like priests in the cloaked hedge rowH
And over the cloth of counties the far hills rode nearV
Under the one leaved trees ran a scarecrow of snowH
And fast through the drifts of the thickets antlered like deerV
-
Rags and prayers down the kneeW
Deep hillocks and loud on the numbed lakesI
All night lost and long wading in the wake of the sheW
Bird through the times and lands and tribes of the slow flakesI
Listen and look where she sails the goose plucked seaW
-
The sky the bird the brideF
The cloud the need the planted stars the joy beyondF
The fields of seed and the time dying flesh astrideF
The heavens the heaven the grave the burning fontF
In the far ago land the door of his death glided wideF
-
And the bird descendedF
On a bread white hill over the cupped farmU
And the lakes and floating fields and the river wendedF
Vales where he prayed to come to the last harmU
And the home of prayers and fires the tale endedF
-
The dancing perishesW
On the white no longer growing green and minstrel deadF
The singing breaks in the snow shoed villages of wishesW
That once cut the figures of birds on the deep breadF
And over the glazed lakes skated the shapes of fishesW
-
Flying The rite is shornX
Of nightingale and centaur dead horse The springs witherY
Back Lines of age sleep on the stones till trumpeting dawnZ
Exultation lies down Time buries the spring weatherY
That belled and bounded with the fossil and the dew rebornX
-
For the bird lay beddedF
In a choir of wings as though she slept or diedF
And the wings glided wide and he was hymned and weddedF
And through the thighs of the engulfing brideF
The woman breasted and the heaven headedF
-
Bird he was brought lowH
Burning in the bride bed of love in the whirlA2
Pool at the wanting centre in the foldsW
Of paradise in the spun bud of the worldF
And she rose with him flowering in her melting snowH

Dylan Thomas



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