The Brother Of Mercy Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Piero Luca known of all the town	A
As the gray porter by the Pitti wall	B
Where the noon shadows of the gardens fall	B
Sick and in dolor waited to lay down	A
His last sad burden and beside his mat	C
The barefoot monk of La Certosa sat	C
	-
Unseen in square and blossoming garden drifted	D
Soft sunset lights through green Val d'Arno sifted	E
Unheard below the living shuttles shifted	D
Backward and forth and wove in love or strife	F
In mirth or pain the mottled web of life	F
But when at last came upward from the street	G
Tinkle of bell and tread of measured feet	G
The sick man started strove to rise in vain	H
Sinking back heavily with a moan of pain	H
And the monk said ''T is but the Brotherhood	I
Of Mercy going on some errand good	I
Their black masks by the palace wall I see '	-
Piero answered faintly 'Woe is me	J
This day for the first time in forty years	K
In vain the bell hath sounded in my ears	K
Calling me with my brethren of the mask	L
Beggar and prince alike to some new task	L
Of love or pity haply from the street	G
To bear a wretch plague stricken or with feet	G
Hushed to the quickened ear and feverish brain	H
To tread the crowded lazaretto's floors	M
Down the long twilight of the corridors	N
Midst tossing arms and faces full of pain	H
I loved the work it was its own reward	O
I never counted on it to offset	P
My sins which are many or make less my debt	P
To the free grace and mercy of our Lord	O
But somehow father it has come to be	J
In these long years so much a part of me	J
I should not know myself if lacking it	Q
But with the work the worker too would die	R
And in my place some other self would sit	Q
Joyful or sad what matters if not I	R
And now all's over Woe is me ' 'My son '	-
The monk said soothingly 'thy work is done	S
And no more as a servant but the guest	T
Of God thou enterest thy eternal rest	T
No toil no tears no sorrow for the lost	U
Shall mar thy perfect bliss Thou shalt sit down	A
Clad in white robes and wear a golden crown	A
Forever and forever ' Piero tossed	U
On his sick pillow 'Miserable me	J
I am too poor for such grand company	J
The crown would be too heavy for this gray	V
Old head and God forgive me if I say	V
It would be hard to sit there night and day	V
Like an image in the Tribune doing naught	W
With these hard hands that all my life have wrought	W
Not for bread only but for pity's sake	X
I'm dull at prayers I could not keep awake	X
Counting my beads Mine's but a crazy head	Y
Scarce worth the saving if all else be dead	Y
And if one goes to heaven without a heart	Z
God knows he leaves behind his better part	Z
I love my fellow men the worst I know	A2
I would do good to Will death change me so	A2
That I shall sit among the lazy saints	B2
Turning a deaf ear to the sore complaints	B2
Of souls that suffer Why I never yet	P
Left a poor dog in the strada hard beset	P
Or ass o'erladen Must I rate man less	C2
Than dog or ass in holy selfishness	D2
Methinks Lord pardon if the thought be sin	E2
The world of pain were better if therein	E2
One's heart might still be human and desires	N
Of natural pity drop upon its fires	N
Some cooling tears '	-
	-
Thereat the pale monk crossed	U
His brow and muttering 'Madman thou art lost '	-
Took up his pyx and fled and left alone	F2
The sick man closed his eyes with a great groan	F2
That sank into a prayer 'Thy will be done '	-
Then was he made aware by soul or ear	G2
Of somewhat pure and holy bending o'er him	H2
And of a voice like that of her who bore him	H2
Tender and most compassionate 'Never fear	I2
For heaven is love as God himself is love	J2
Thy work below shall be thy work above '	-
And when he looked lo in the stern monk's place	K2
He saw the shining of an angel's face	K2
	-
	-
	-
	-
The Traveller broke the pause 'I've seen	L2
The Brothers down the long street steal	M2
Black silent masked the crowd between	L2
And felt to doff my hat and kneel	M2
With heart if not with knee in prayer	N2
For blessings on their pious care '	-
	-
Reader wiped his glasses 'Friends of mine	O2
I'll try our home brewed next instead of foreign wine '	-

John Greenleaf Whittier

The Brother Of Mercy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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