Over Sir John's Hill Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Over Sir John's hill	A
The hawk on fire hangs still	A
In a hoisted cloud at drop of dusk he pulls to his claws	B
And gallows up the rays of his eyes the small birds of the bay	C
And the shrill child's play	C
Wars	D
Of the sparrows and such who swansing dusk in wrangling hedges	E
And blithely they squawk	F
To fiery tyburn over the wrestle of elms until	A
The flash the noosed hawk	F
Crashes and slowly the fishing holy stalking heron	G
In the river Towy below bows his tilted headstone	H
	-
Flash and the plumes crack	I
And a black cap of jack	I
Daws Sir John's just hill dons and again the gulled birds hare	J
To the hawk on fire the halter height over Towy's fins	K
In a whack of wind	L
There	J
Where the elegiac fisherbird stabs and paddles	M
In the pebbly dab filled	N
Shallow and sedge and 'dilly dilly ' calls the loft hawk	F
'Come and be killed '	-
I open the leaves of the water at a passage	O
Of psalms and shadows among the pincered sandcrabs prancing	P
	-
And read in a shell	Q
Death clear as a bouy's bell	Q
All praise of the hawk on fire in hawk eyed dusk be sung	R
When his viperish fuse hangs looped with flames under the brand	S
Wing and blest shall	T
Young	R
Green chickens of the bay and bushes cluck 'dilly dilly	U
Come let us die '	-
We grieve as the blithe birds never again leave shingle and elm	V
The heron and I	W
I young Aesop fabling to the near night by the dingle	X
Of eels saint heron hymning in the shell hung distant	Y
	-
Crystal harbour vale	Z
Where the sea cobbles sail	Z
And wharves of water where the walls dance and the white cranes stilt	A2
It is the heron and I under judging Sir John's elmed	A2
Hill tell tale the knelled	A2
Guilt	A2
Of the led astray birds whom God for their breast of whistles	M
Have Mercy on	B2
God in his whirlwind silence save who marks the sparrows hail	Z
For their souls' song	C2
Now the heron grieves in the weeded verge Through windows	D2
Of dusk and water I see the tilting whispering	P
	-
Heron mirrored go	E2
As the snapt feathers snow	E2
Fishing in the tear of the Towy Only a hoot owl	F2
Hollows a grassblade blown in cupped hands in the looted elms	G2
And no green cocks or hens	H2
Shout	A2
Now on Sir John's hill The heron ankling the scaly	F2
Lowlands of the waves	I2
Makes all the music and I who hear the tune of the slow	F2
Wear willow river grave	J2
Before the lunge of the night the notes on this time shaken	G
Stone for the sake of the souls of the slain birds sailing	P

Dylan Thomas

Over Sir John's Hill Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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