At The Fishhouses Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACDEFGBHBIBGBJBBBB KBJLMBBNBOOPGNAQRBST BUGBDV WCBAXNBVBCYZVWBQBVVB A2BBVQBB2GA2GC2BBD2B BE2| Although it is a cold evening | A |
| down by one of the fishhouses | B |
| an old man sits netting | A |
| his net in the gloaming almost invisible | C |
| a dark purple brown | D |
| and his shuttle worn and polished | E |
| The air smells so strong of codfish | F |
| it makes one's nose run and one's eyes water | G |
| The five fishhouses have steeply peaked roofs | B |
| and narrow cleated gangplanks slant up | H |
| to storerooms in the gables | B |
| for the wheelbarrows to be pushed up and down on | I |
| All is silver the heavy surface of the sea | B |
| swelling slowly as if considering spilling over | G |
| is opaque but the silver of the benches | B |
| the lobster pots and masts scattered | J |
| among the wild jagged rocks | B |
| is of an apparent translucence | B |
| like the small old buildings with an emerald moss | B |
| growing on their shoreward walls | B |
| The big fish tubs are completely lined | K |
| with layers of beautiful herring scales | B |
| and the wheelbarrows are similarly plastered | J |
| with creamy iridescent coats of mail | L |
| with small iridescent flies crawling on them | M |
| Up on the little slope behind the houses | B |
| set in the sparse bright sprinkle of grass | B |
| is an ancient wooden capstan | N |
| cracked with two long bleached handles | B |
| and some melancholy stains like dried blood | O |
| where the ironwork has rusted | O |
| The old man accepts a Lucky Strike | P |
| He was a friend of my grandfather | G |
| We talk of the decline in the population | N |
| and of codfish and herring | A |
| while he waits for a herring boat to come in | Q |
| There are sequins on his vest and on his thumb | R |
| He has scraped the scales the principal beauty | B |
| from unnumbered fish with that black old knife | S |
| the blade of which is almost worn away | T |
| - | |
| Down at the water's edge at the place | B |
| where they haul up the boats up the long ramp | U |
| descending into the water thin silver | G |
| tree trunks are laid horizontally | B |
| across the gray stones down and down | D |
| at intervals of four or five feet | V |
| - | |
| Cold dark deep and absolutely clear | W |
| element bearable to no mortal | C |
| to fish and to seals One seal particularly | B |
| I have seen here evening after evening | A |
| He was curious about me He was interested in music | X |
| like me a believer in total immersion | N |
| so I used to sing him Baptist hymns | B |
| I also sang quot A Mighty Fortress Is Our God quot | V |
| He stood up in the water and regarded me | B |
| steadily moving his head a little | C |
| Then he would disappear then suddenly emerge | Y |
| almost in the same spot with a sort of shrug | Z |
| as if it were against his better judgment | V |
| Cold dark deep and absolutely clear | W |
| the clear gray icy water Back behind us | B |
| the dignified tall firs begin | Q |
| Bluish associating with their shadows | B |
| a million Christmas trees stand | V |
| waiting for Christmas The water seems suspended | V |
| above the rounded gray and blue gray stones | B |
| I have seen it over and over the same sea the same | A2 |
| slightly indifferently swinging above the stones | B |
| icily free above the stones | B |
| above the stones and then the world | V |
| If you should dip your hand in | Q |
| your wrist would ache immediately | B |
| your bones would begin to ache and your hand would burn | B2 |
| as if the water were a transmutation of fire | G |
| that feeds on stones and burns with a dark gray flame | A2 |
| If you tasted it it would first taste bitter | G |
| then briny then surely burn your tongue | C2 |
| It is like what we imagine knowledge to be | B |
| dark salt clear moving utterly free | B |
| drawn from the cold hard mouth | D2 |
| of the world derived from the rocky breasts | B |
| forever flowing and drawn and since | B |
| our knowledge is historical flowing and flown | E2 |
Elizabeth Bishop
(1)
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About At The Fishhouses
At The Fishhouses is a poem by Elizabeth Bishop. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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