A Fallen Yew Poem Rhyme Scheme

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It seemed corrival of the world's great prime	A
Made to un edge the scythe of Time	A
And last with stateliest rhyme	A
	-
No tender Dryad ever did indue	B
That rigid chiton of rough yew	C
To fret her white flesh through	C
	-
But some god like to those grim Asgard lords	D
Who walk the fables of the hordes	D
From Scandinavian fjords	D
	-
Upheaved its stubborn girth and raised unriven	E
Against the whirl blast and the levin	E
Defiant arms to Heaven	E
	-
When doom puffed out the stars we might have said	B
It would decline its heavy head	B
And see the world to bed	B
	-
For this firm yew did from the vassal leas	F
And rain and air its tributaries	F
Its revenues increase	G
	-
And levy impost on the golden sun	E
Take the blind years as they might run	E
And no fate seek or shun	E
	-
But now our yew is strook is fallen yea	H
Hacked like dull wood of every day	H
To this and that men say	H
	-
Never To Hades' shadowy shipyards gone	E
Dim barge of Dis down Acheron	E
It drops or Lethe wan	E
	-
Stirred by its fall poor destined bark of Dis	I
Along my soul a bruit there is	J
Of echoing images	K
	-
Reverberations of mortality	B
Spelt backward from its death to me	B
Its life reads saddenedly	L
	-
Its breast was hollowed as the tooth of eld	B
And boys their creeping unbeheld	B
A laughing moment dwelled	B
	-
Yet they within its very heart so crept	B
Reached not the heart that courage kept	B
With winds and years beswept	B
	-
And in its boughs did close and kindly nest	B
The birds as they within its breast	B
By all its leaves caressed	B
	-
But bird nor child might touch by any art	B
Each other's or the tree's hid heart	B
A whole God's breadth apart	B
	-
The breadth of God he breadth of death and life	M
Even so even so in undreamed strife	M
With pulseless Law the wife	M
	-
The sweetest wife on sweetest marriage day	B
Their souls at grapple in mid way	B
Sweet to her sweet may say	B
	-
'I take you to my inmost heart my true '	-
Ah fool but there is one heart you	C
Shall never take him to	C
	-
The hold that falls not when the town is got	B
The heart's heart whose immured plot	B
Hath keys yourself keep not	B
	-
Its ports you cannot burst you are withstood	B
For him that to your listening blood	B
Sends precepts as he would	B
	-
Its gates are deaf to Love high summoner	C
Yea Love's great warrant runs not there	C
You are your prisoner	C
	-
Yourself are with yourself the sole consortress	B
In that unleaguerable fortress	B
It knows you not for portress	B
	-
Its keys are at the cincture hung of God	B
Its gates are trepidant to His nod	B
By Him its floors are trod	B
	-
And if His feet shall rock those floors in wrath	N
Or blest aspersion sleek His path	N
Is only choice it hath	N
	-
Yea in that ultimate heart's occult abode	B
To lie as in an oubliette of God	B
Or as a bower untrod	B
	-
Built by a secret Lover for His Spouse	B
Sole choice is this your life allows	B
Sad tree whose perishing boughs	B
So few birds house	B

Francis Thompson

A Fallen Yew Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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