St. Yve-s Poor Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHIJ KLKLMNMN OPQP JRASTUVW XYZ A2B2 C2D2 B2D2 E2F2G2AMH2X| JEFFIK was there and Matthieu and brown Bran | A |
| Warped in old wars and babbling of the sword | B |
| And Jannedik a white rose pinched and paled | C |
| With the world's frosts and many more beside | D |
| Lamed rheumed and palsied aged impotent | E |
| Of all but hunger and blind lifted hands | F |
| I set the doors wide at the given hour | G |
| Took the great baskets piled with bread the fish | H |
| Yet silvered of the sea the curds of milk | I |
| And called them Brethren brake and blest and gave | J |
| - | |
| For O my Lord the house dove knows her nest | K |
| Above my window builded from the rain | L |
| In the brown mere the heron finds her rest | K |
| But these shall seek in vain | L |
| And O my Lord the thrush may fold her wing | M |
| The curlew seek the long lift of the seas | N |
| The wild swan sleep amid his journeying | M |
| There is no rest for these | N |
| - | |
| Thy dead are sheltered housed and warmed they wait | O |
| Under the golden fern the falling foam | P |
| But these Thy living wander desolate | Q |
| And have not any home | P |
| - | |
| I called them Brethren brake and blest and gave | J |
| Old Jeffik had her withered hand to show | R |
| Young Jannedik had dreamed of death and Bran | A |
| Would tell me wonders wrought on fields of war | S |
| When Michael and his warriors rode the storm | T |
| And all the heavens were thrilled with clanging spears | U |
| Ah God my poor my poor Till there came one | V |
| Wrapped in foul rags who caught me by the robe | W |
| And pleaded 'Bread my father ' | - |
| - | |
| In his hand | X |
| I laid the last loaf of the daily dole | Y |
| Saw on the palm a red wound like a star | Z |
| And bade him 'Let me bind it ' | - |
| 'These my wounds ' | - |
| He answered softly 'daily dost thou bind ' | - |
| And I 'My son I have not seen thy face | A2 |
| But thy bruised feet have trodden on my heart | B2 |
| I will get water for thee ' | - |
| 'These my hurts ' | - |
| Again he answered 'daily dost thou wash ' | - |
| And I once more 'My son I know thee not | C2 |
| But the bleak wind blows bitter from the sea | D2 |
| And even the gorse is perished Rest thou here ' | - |
| And he again 'My rest is in thy heart | B2 |
| I take from thee as I have given to thee | D2 |
| Dost thou not know Me Breton ' | - |
| I 'My Lord ' | - |
| - | |
| A scent of lilies on the cold sea wind | E2 |
| A thin white blaze of wings a face of flame | F2 |
| Over the gateway and the vision passed | G2 |
| And there were only Matthieu and brown Bran | A |
| And the young girl the foam white Jannedik | M |
| Wondering to see their father rapt from them | H2 |
| And Jeffik weeping o'er her withered hand | X |
Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
(1)
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