Poet Matthew Arnold

Matthew Arnold

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The Tomb Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGGAAHHC CEEEEEEEEIJKKEEEELLM EJNNOO

So rest for ever rest O princely PairA
In your high church 'mid the still mountain airA
Where horn and hound and vassals never comeB
Only the blessed Saints are smiling dumbB
From the rich painted windows of the naveC
On aisle and transept and your marble graveC
Where thou young Prince shalt never more ariseD
From the fringed mattress where thy Duchess liesD
On autumn mornings when the bugle soundsE
And ride across the drawbridge with thy houndsE
To hunt the boar in the crisp woods till eveF
And thou O Princess shalt no more receiveF
Thou and thy ladies in the hall of stateG
The jaded hunters with their bloody freightG
Coming benighted to the castle gateG
So sleep for ever sleep O marble PairA
Or if ye wake let it be then when fairA
On the carved western front a flood of lightH
Streams from the setting sun and colours brightH
Prophets transfigured Saints and Martyrs braveC
In the vast western window of the naveC
And on the pavement round the Tomb there glintsE
A chequer work of glowing sapphire tintsE
And amethyst and ruby then uncloseE
Your eyelids on the stone where ye reposeE
And from your broider'd pillows lift your headsE
And rise upon your cold white marble bedsE
And looking down on the warm rosy tintsE
Which chequer at your feet the illumined flintsE
Say 'What is this we are in bliss forgivenI
Behold the pavement of the courts of Heaven 'J
Or let it be on autumn nights when rainK
Doth rustlingly above your heads complainK
On the smooth leaden roof and on the wallsE
Shedding her pensive light at intervalsE
The moon through the clere story windows shinesE
And the wind washes through the mountain pinesE
Then gazing up 'mid the dim pillars highL
The foliaged marble forest where ye lieL
'Hush' ye will say 'it is eternityM
This is the glimmering verge of Heaven and theseE
The columns of the heavenly palaces 'J
And in the sweeping of the wind your earN
The passage of the Angels' wings will hearN
And on the lichen crusted leads aboveO
The rustle of the eternal rain of LoveO

Matthew Arnold



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About The Tomb

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