The Eve Of Saint Mark. A Fragment Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Upon a Sabbath day it fell	A
Twice holy was the Sabbath bell	A
That call'd the folk to evening prayer	B
The city streets were clean and fair	B
From wholesome drench of April rains	C
And on the western window panes	C
The chilly sunset faintly told	D
Of unmatur'd green vallies cold	D
Of the green thorny bloomless hedge	E
Of rivers new with spring tide sedge	E
Of primroses by shelter'd rills	C
And daisies on the aguish hills	C
Twice holy was the Sabbath bell	A
The silent streets were crowded well	A
With staid and pious companies	C
Warm from their fire side orat'ries	C
And moving with demurest air	B
To even song and vesper prayer	B
Each arched porch and entry low	F
Was fill'd with patient folk and slow	F
With whispers hush and shuffling feet	G
While play'd the organ loud and sweet	G
	-
The bells had ceas'd the prayers begun	H
And Bertha had not yet half done	H
A curious volume patch'd and torn	I
That all day long from earliest morn	I
Had taken captive her two eyes	C
Among its golden broideries	C
Perplex'd her with a thousand things	C
The stars of Heaven and angels' wings	C
Martyrs in a fiery blaze	C
Azure saints in silver rays	C
Moses' breastplate and the seven	H
Candlesticks John saw in Heaven	H
The winged Lion of Saint Mark	J
And the Covenantal Ark	J
With its many mysteries	C
Cherubim and golden mice	C
	-
Bertha was a maiden fair	B
Dwelling in the old Minster square	B
From her fire side she could see	C
Sidelong its rich antiquity	C
Far as the Bishop's garden wall	K
Where sycamores and elm trees tall	K
Full leav'd the forest had outstript	C
By no sharp north wind ever nipt	C
So shelter'd by the mighty pile	L
Bertha arose and read awhile	L
With forehead 'gainst the window pane	M
Again she try'd and then again	N
Until the dusk eve left her dark	J
Upon the legend of St Mark	J
From plaited lawn frill fine and thin	O
She lifted up her soft warm chin	O
With aching neck and swimming eyes	C
And daz'd with saintly imageries	C
	-
All was gloom and silent all	K
Save now and then the still foot fall	K
Of one returning homewards late	C
Past the echoing minster gate	C
The clamorous daws that all the day	C
Above tree tops and towers play	C
Pair by pair had gone to rest	C
Each in its ancient belfry nest	C
Where asleep they fall betimes	C
To music of the drowsy chimes	C
	-
All was silent all was gloom	P
Abroad and in the homely room	P
Down she sat poor cheated soul	Q
And struck a lamp from the dismal coal	Q
Lean'd forward with bright drooping hair	B
And slant book full against the glare	B
Her shadow in uneasy guise	C
hover'd about a giant size	C
On ceiling beam and old oak chair	B
The parrot's cage and panel square	B
And the warm angled winter screen	R
On which were many monsters seen	R
Call'd doves of Siam Lima mice	C
And legless birds of Paradise	C
Macaw and tender Avadavat	C
And silken furr'd Angora cat	C
Untir'd she read her shadow still	S
Glower'd about as it would fill	S
The room with wildest forms and shades	C
As though some ghostly queen of spades	C
Had come to mock behind her back	T
And dance and ruffle her garments black	T
Untir'd she read the legend page	U
Of holy Mark from youth to age	U
On land on sea in pagan chains	C
Rejoicing for his many pains	C
Sometimes the learned Eremite	C
With golden star or dagger bright	C
Referr'd to pious poesies	C
Written in smallest crow quill size	C
Beneath the text and thus the rhyme	V
Was parcell'd out from time to time	V
'Als writith he of swevenis	C
Men han beforne they wake in bliss	C
Whanne that hir friendes thinke him bound	C
In crimped shroude farre under grounde	C
And how a litling child mote be	C
A saint er its nativitie	C
Gif that the modre God her blesse	C
Kepen in solitarinesse	C
And kissen devoute the holy croce	C
Of Goddes love and Sathan's force	C
He writith and thinges many mo	F
Of swiche thinges I may not show	F
Bot I must tellen verilie	S
Somdel of Sainte Cicilie	S
And chieftie what he auctorethe	W
Of Sainte Markis life and dethe '	-
	-
At length her constant eyelids come	X
Upon the fervent martyrdom	X
Then lastly to his holy shrine	Y
Exalt amid the tapers' shine	Y
At Venice	C

John Keats

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

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