The Eve Of Saint Mark. A Fragment Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEECCAACCBBFF GG HHIICCCCCCHHJJCC BBCCKKCCLLMNJJOOCC KKCCCCCCCC PPQQBBCCBBRRCCCCSSCC TTUUCCCCCCVVCCCCCCCC CCFFSSW XXYYC

Upon a Sabbath day it fellA
Twice holy was the Sabbath bellA
That call'd the folk to evening prayerB
The city streets were clean and fairB
From wholesome drench of April rainsC
And on the western window panesC
The chilly sunset faintly toldD
Of unmatur'd green vallies coldD
Of the green thorny bloomless hedgeE
Of rivers new with spring tide sedgeE
Of primroses by shelter'd rillsC
And daisies on the aguish hillsC
Twice holy was the Sabbath bellA
The silent streets were crowded wellA
With staid and pious companiesC
Warm from their fire side orat'riesC
And moving with demurest airB
To even song and vesper prayerB
Each arched porch and entry lowF
Was fill'd with patient folk and slowF
With whispers hush and shuffling feetG
While play'd the organ loud and sweetG
-
The bells had ceas'd the prayers begunH
And Bertha had not yet half doneH
A curious volume patch'd and tornI
That all day long from earliest mornI
Had taken captive her two eyesC
Among its golden broideriesC
Perplex'd her with a thousand thingsC
The stars of Heaven and angels' wingsC
Martyrs in a fiery blazeC
Azure saints in silver raysC
Moses' breastplate and the sevenH
Candlesticks John saw in HeavenH
The winged Lion of Saint MarkJ
And the Covenantal ArkJ
With its many mysteriesC
Cherubim and golden miceC
-
Bertha was a maiden fairB
Dwelling in the old Minster squareB
From her fire side she could seeC
Sidelong its rich antiquityC
Far as the Bishop's garden wallK
Where sycamores and elm trees tallK
Full leav'd the forest had outstriptC
By no sharp north wind ever niptC
So shelter'd by the mighty pileL
Bertha arose and read awhileL
With forehead 'gainst the window paneM
Again she try'd and then againN
Until the dusk eve left her darkJ
Upon the legend of St MarkJ
From plaited lawn frill fine and thinO
She lifted up her soft warm chinO
With aching neck and swimming eyesC
And daz'd with saintly imageriesC
-
All was gloom and silent allK
Save now and then the still foot fallK
Of one returning homewards lateC
Past the echoing minster gateC
The clamorous daws that all the dayC
Above tree tops and towers playC
Pair by pair had gone to restC
Each in its ancient belfry nestC
Where asleep they fall betimesC
To music of the drowsy chimesC
-
All was silent all was gloomP
Abroad and in the homely roomP
Down she sat poor cheated soulQ
And struck a lamp from the dismal coalQ
Lean'd forward with bright drooping hairB
And slant book full against the glareB
Her shadow in uneasy guiseC
hover'd about a giant sizeC
On ceiling beam and old oak chairB
The parrot's cage and panel squareB
And the warm angled winter screenR
On which were many monsters seenR
Call'd doves of Siam Lima miceC
And legless birds of ParadiseC
Macaw and tender AvadavatC
And silken furr'd Angora catC
Untir'd she read her shadow stillS
Glower'd about as it would fillS
The room with wildest forms and shadesC
As though some ghostly queen of spadesC
Had come to mock behind her backT
And dance and ruffle her garments blackT
Untir'd she read the legend pageU
Of holy Mark from youth to ageU
On land on sea in pagan chainsC
Rejoicing for his many painsC
Sometimes the learned EremiteC
With golden star or dagger brightC
Referr'd to pious poesiesC
Written in smallest crow quill sizeC
Beneath the text and thus the rhymeV
Was parcell'd out from time to timeV
'Als writith he of swevenisC
Men han beforne they wake in blissC
Whanne that hir friendes thinke him boundC
In crimped shroude farre under groundeC
And how a litling child mote beC
A saint er its nativitieC
Gif that the modre God her blesseC
Kepen in solitarinesseC
And kissen devoute the holy croceC
Of Goddes love and Sathan's forceC
He writith and thinges many moF
Of swiche thinges I may not showF
Bot I must tellen verilieS
Somdel of Sainte CicilieS
And chieftie what he auctoretheW
Of Sainte Markis life and dethe '-
-
At length her constant eyelids comeX
Upon the fervent martyrdomX
Then lastly to his holy shrineY
Exalt amid the tapers' shineY
At VeniceC

John Keats



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about The Eve Of Saint Mark. A Fragment poem by John Keats


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 6 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets