Sons Of Belial Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDEFGHEIJ A HKLMNEMOPQPRESKEN A BCCBBTUV WFFBFXCFBFXBECBBE YFZEZZBZEE HBTBEA2FPB2ZFH| I | A |
| - | |
| We are old | B |
| Old as song | C |
| Before Rome was | D |
| Or Cyrene | E |
| Mad nights knew us | F |
| And old men's wives | G |
| We knew who spilled the sacred oil | H |
| For young gold harlots of the town | E |
| We knew where the peacocks went | I |
| And the white doe for sacrifice | J |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| We were the Sons of Belial | H |
| One black night | K |
| Centuries ago | L |
| We beat at a door | M |
| In Gilead | N |
| We took the Levite's concubine | E |
| We plucked her hands from off the door | M |
| We choked the cry into her throat | O |
| And stuck the stars among her hair | P |
| We glimpsed the madly swaying stars | Q |
| Between the rhythms of her hair | P |
| And all our mute and separate strings | R |
| Swelled in a raging symphony | E |
| Our blood sang paeans | S |
| All that night | K |
| Till dawn fell like a wounded swan | E |
| Upon the fields of Gilead | N |
| - | |
| III | A |
| - | |
| We are old | B |
| Old as song | C |
| We are dumb song | C |
| Epics tingled | B |
| In our blood | B |
| When we haled Hypatia | T |
| Over the stones | U |
| In Alexandria | V |
| - | |
| Could we loose | W |
| The wild rhythms clinched in us | F |
| March in bands of troubadours | F |
| We would be of gentle mood | B |
| When Christ healed us | F |
| Who were dumb | X |
| When he freed our shut in song | C |
| We strewed green palms | F |
| At his pale feet | B |
| We sang hosannas | F |
| In Jerusalem | X |
| And all our fumbling voices blent | B |
| In a brief white harmony | E |
| But a mightier song | C |
| Was in us pent | B |
| When we nailed Christ | B |
| To a four armed tree | E |
| - | |
| IV | - |
| - | |
| We are young | Y |
| When we rise up with singing roots | F |
| Warm rains washing | Z |
| Gutters of Berlin | E |
| Where we stamped Rosa Luxemburg | Z |
| On a night in spring | Z |
| Rhythms skurry in our blood | B |
| Little nimble rats of song | Z |
| In our feet run crazily | E |
| And all is dust we trample on | E |
| - | |
| Mad nights when we make ritual | H |
| Feet running before the sleuth light | B |
| And the smell of burnt flesh | T |
| By a flame ringed hut | B |
| In Missouri | E |
| Sweet as on Rome's pyre | A2 |
| We make ropes do rigadoons | F |
| With copper feet that jig on air | P |
| We are the Mob | B2 |
| Old as song | Z |
| Tyre knew us | F |
| And Israel | H |
Lola Ridge
(1)
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About Sons Of Belial
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