Unto This Last Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEFGGHHIIJJKK LLMNOOPPJJ QQQQJJJRRSTQQUUQQVVQ QHH| A boy's young fancy taketh love | A |
| Most simply with the rind thereof | A |
| A boy's young fancy tasteth more | B |
| The rind than the deific core | B |
| Ah Sweet to cast away the slips | C |
| Of unessential rind and lips | C |
| Fix on the immortal core is well | D |
| But heard'st thou ever any tell | D |
| Of such a fool would take for food | E |
| Aspect and scent however good | F |
| Of sweetest core Love's orchards grow | G |
| Should such a phantast please him so | G |
| Love where Love's reverent self denies | H |
| Love to feed but with his eyes | H |
| All the savour all the touch | I |
| Another's was there ever such | I |
| Such were fool if fool there be | J |
| Such fool was I and was for thee | J |
| But if the touch and savour too | K |
| Of this fruit say Sweet of you | K |
| You unto another give | L |
| For sacrosanct prerogative | L |
| Yet even scent and aspect were | M |
| Some elected Second's share | N |
| And one gone mad should rest content | O |
| With memory of show and scent | O |
| Would not thyself vow if there sigh | P |
| Such a fool say Sweet as I | P |
| Treble frenzy it must be | J |
| Still to love and to love thee | J |
| - | |
| Yet had I torn man knoweth not | Q |
| Nor scarce the unweeping angels wot | Q |
| Of such dread task the lightest part | Q |
| Her fingers from about my heart | Q |
| Heart did we not think that she | J |
| Had surceased her tyranny | J |
| Heart we bounded and were free | J |
| O sacrilegious freedom Till | R |
| She came and taught my apostate will | R |
| The winnowed sweet mirth cannot guess | S |
| And tear fined peace of hopefulness | T |
| Looked spake simply touched and went | Q |
| Now old pain is fresh content | Q |
| Proved content is unproved pain | U |
| Pangs fore tempted which in vain | U |
| I faithless have denied now bud | Q |
| To untempted fragrance and the mood | Q |
| Of contrite heavenliness all days | V |
| Joy affrights me in my ways | V |
| Extremities of old delight | Q |
| Afflict me with new exquisite | Q |
| Virgin piercings of surprise | H |
| Stung by those wild brown bees her eyes | H |
Francis Thompson
(1)
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About Unto This Last
Unto This Last is a poem by Francis Thompson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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