A Reasonable Protestation Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDDEEFFGGGHHIICCJKL LMMNNOOPP QQCCRRSSTTUURRUU VVWXYYGGZZA2B2RRC2C2 D2D2RRE2E2RRRRF2F2RR RRRRUUOG2H2E2UUUI2I2 UUJ2K2UURRL2L2RRM2M2 UU UURRN2O2UUUUURRP2P2Q 2Q2RRR2R2UUG2G2UUB2B 2S2CT2T2RRR| To F who complained of his vagueness and lack of dogmatic statement | A |
| - | |
| Not I suppose since I deny | B |
| Appearance is reality | C |
| And doubt the substance of the earth | D |
| Does your remonstrance come to birth | D |
| Not that at once I both affirm | E |
| 'Tis not the skin that makes the worm | E |
| And every tactile thing with mass | F |
| Must find its symbol in the grass | F |
| And with a cool conviction say | G |
| Even a critic's more than clay | G |
| And every dog outlives his day | G |
| This kind of vagueness suits your view | H |
| You would not carp at it for you | H |
| Did never stand with those who take | I |
| Their pleasures in a world opaque | I |
| For you a tree would never be | C |
| Lovely were it but a tree | C |
| And earthly splendours never splendid | J |
| If by transience unattended | K |
| Your eyes are on a farther shore | L |
| Than any of earth nor do adore | L |
| As godhead God's dead hieroglyph | M |
| Nor would you be perturbed if | M |
| Some prophet with a voice of thunder | N |
| And avalanche arm should blast and founder | N |
| The logical pillars that maintain | O |
| This visible world which loads the brain | O |
| Loads the brain and withers the heart | P |
| And holds man from his God apart | P |
| - | |
| But still with you remains the craving | Q |
| For some more solid substance having | Q |
| Surface to touch colour to see | C |
| And form compact in symmetry | C |
| You are not satisfied with these | R |
| Vague throbbings nameless ecstasies | R |
| Nor can your spirit find delight | S |
| In an amorphic great white light | S |
| Not with such sickles can you reap | T |
| If a dense earth you cannot keep | T |
| You want a dense heaven as substitute | U |
| With trees of plump celestial fruit | U |
| Red apples golden pomegranates | R |
| And a river flowing by tall gates | R |
| Of topaz and of chrysolite | U |
| And walls of twenty cubits height | U |
| - | |
| Frank you cry out against the age | V |
| Nor you nor I can disengage | V |
| Ourselves from that in which we live | W |
| Nor seize on things God does not give | X |
| Thirsty as you perhaps I long | Y |
| For courtyards of eternal song | Y |
| Even as yours my feet would stray | G |
| In a city where 'tis always day | G |
| And a green spontaneous leafy garden | Z |
| With God in the middle for a warden | Z |
| But though I hope with strengthening faith | A2 |
| To taste when I have traversed death | B2 |
| The unimaginable sweetness | R |
| Of certitude of such concreteness | R |
| How should I draw the hue and scope | C2 |
| Of substances I only hope | C2 |
| Or blaze upon a paper screen | D2 |
| The evidence of things not seen | D2 |
| This art of ours but grows and stirs | R |
| Experience when it registers | R |
| And you know well as I know well | E2 |
| This autumn of time in which we dwell | E2 |
| Is not an age of revelations | R |
| Solid as once but intimations | R |
| That touch us with warm misty fingers | R |
| Leaving a nameless sense that lingers | R |
| That sight is blind and Time's a snare | F2 |
| And earth less solid than the air | F2 |
| And deep below all seeming things | R |
| There sits a steady king of kings | R |
| A radiant ageless permanence | R |
| A quenchless fount of virtue whence | R |
| We draw our life a sense that makes | R |
| A staunch conviction nothing shakes | R |
| Of our own immortality | U |
| And though being man with certain glee | U |
| I eat and drink though I suffer pain | O |
| And love and hate and love again | G2 |
| Well or in mode contemptible | H2 |
| Thus shackled by the body's spell | E2 |
| I see through pupils of the beast | U |
| Though it be faint and blurred with mist | U |
| A Star that travels in the East | U |
| I see what I can not what I will | I2 |
| In things that move things that are still | I2 |
| Thin motion even cloudier rest | U |
| I see the symbols God hath drest | U |
| The moveless trees the trees that wave | J2 |
| The clouds that heavenly highways have | K2 |
| Horses that run rocks that are fixt | U |
| Streams that have rest and motion mixt | U |
| The main with its abiding flux | R |
| The wind that up my chimney sucks | R |
| A mounting waterfall of flame | L2 |
| Sticks straws dust beetles and that same | L2 |
| Old blazing sun the Psalmist saw | R |
| A testifier to the law | R |
| Divinely to the heart they speak | M2 |
| Saying how they are but weak | M2 |
| Wan will o' the wisps on the crystal sea | U |
| But stays that sea still dark to me | U |
| - | |
| Did I now glibly insolent | U |
| Chart the ulterior firmament | U |
| Would you not know my words were lies | R |
| Where not my testimonial eyes | R |
| Mortal or spiritual lodge | N2 |
| Mere uncorroborated fudge | O2 |
| Praise me though praise I do not want | U |
| Rather that I have cast much cant | U |
| That what I see and feel I write | U |
| Read what I can in this dim light | U |
| Granted to me in nether night | U |
| And though I am vague and shrink to guess | R |
| God's everlasting purposes | R |
| And never save in perplext dream | P2 |
| Have caught the least clear shapen gleam | P2 |
| Of the great kingdom and the throne | Q2 |
| In the world that lies behind our own | Q2 |
| I have not lacked my certainties | R |
| I have not haggard moaned the skies | R |
| Nor waged unnecessary strife | R2 |
| Nor scorned nor overvalued life | R2 |
| And though you say my attitude | U |
| Is questioning concede my mood | U |
| Does never bring to tongue or pen | G2 |
| Accents of gloomy modern men | G2 |
| Who wail or hail the death of God | U |
| And weigh and measure man the clod | U |
| Or say they draw reluctant breath | B2 |
| And musically mourn that Death | B2 |
| Is a queen omnipotent of woe | S2 |
| And Life her lean cicisbeo | C |
| Abject and pale whom vampire like | T2 |
| She playeth with ere she shall strike | T2 |
| And pose sad riddles to the Sphinx | R |
| With raven quills in purple inks | R |
| Then send the boy to fetch more drinks | R |
John Collings Squire, Sir
(1)
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