Pacchiarotto - Epilogue Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Robert Browning

Pacchiarotto - Epilogue Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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The poets pour us wine	A
Said the dearest poet I ever knew	B
Dearest and greatest and best to me	C
You clamor athirst for poetry	C
We pour But when shall a vintage be	C
You cry strong grape squeezed gold from screw	B
Yet sweet juice flavored flowery fine	A
That were indeed the wine	A
	-
One pours your cup stark strength	D
Meat for a man and you eye the pulp	E
Strained turbid still from the viscous blood	F
Of the snaky bough and you grumble Good	G
For it swells resolve breeds hardihood	G
Dispatch it then in a single gulp	E
So down with a wry face goes at length	D
The liquor stuff for strength	D
	-
One pours your cup sheer sweet	G
The fragrant fumes of a year condensed	G
Suspicion of all that's ripe or rathe	H
From the bud on branch to the grass in swathe	I
We suck mere milk of the seasons saith	I
A curl of each nostril dew dispensed	G
Nowise for nerving man to feat	G
Boys sip such honeyed sweet	G
	-
And thus who wants wine strong	J
Waves each sweet smell of the year away	K
Who likes to swoon as the sweets suffuse	L
His brain with a mixture of beams and dews	L
Turned syrupy drink rough strength eschews	L
What though in our veins your wine stock stay	K
The lack of the bloom does our palate wrong	J
Give us wine sweet not strong	J
	-
Yet wine is some affirm	M
Prime wine is found in the world somewhere	N
Of portable strength with sweet to match	O
You double your heart its dose yet catch	O
As the draught descends a violet swatch	P
Softness however it came there	N
Through drops expressed by the fire and worm	M
Strong sweet wine some affirm	M
	-
Body and bouquet both	I
'Tis easy to ticket a bottle so	Q
But what was the case in the cask my friends	R
Cask Nay the vat where the maker mends	R
His strong with his sweet you suppose and blends	R
His rough with his smooth till none can know	Q
How it comes you may tipple nothing loth	I
Body and bouquet both	I
	-
You being just the world	G
No poets who turn themselves the winch	S
Of the press no critics I'll even say	R
Being flustered and easy of faith to day	R
Who for love of the work have learned the way	R
Till themselves produce home made at a pinch	S
No You are the world and wine ne'er purled	R
Except to please the world	R
	-
For oh the common heart	R
And ah the irremissible sin	T
Of poets who please themselves not us	R
Strong wine yet sweet wine pouring thus	R
How please still Pindar and schylus	R
Drink dipt into by the bearded chin	T
Alike and the bloomy lip no part	R
Denied the common heart	R
	-
And might we get such grace	R
And did you moderns but stock our vault	R
With the true half brandy half attar gul	U
How would seniors indulge at a hearty pull	V
While juniors tossed off their thimbleful	V
Our Shakespeare and Milton escaped your fault	R
So they reign supreme o'er the weaker race	R
That wants the ancient grace	R
	-
If I paid myself with words	R
As the French say well I were dupe indeed	R
I were found in belief that you quaffed and bowsed	R
At your Shakespeare the whole day long caroused	R
In your Milton pottle deep nor drowsed	R
A moment of night toped on took heed	R
Of nothing like modern cream and curds	R
Pay me with deeds not words	R
	-
For see your cellarage	W
There are forty barrels with Shakespeare's brand	R
Some five or six are abroach the rest	R
Stand spigoted fauceted Try and test	R
What yourselves call best of the very best	R
How comes it that still untouched they stand	R
Why don't you try tap advance a stage	W
With the rest in cellarage	W
	-
For see your cellarage	W
There are four big butts of Milton's brew	B
How comes it you make old drips and drops	R
Do duty and there devotion stops	R
Leave such an abyss of malt and hops	R
Embellied in butts which bungs still glue	B
You hate your bard A fig for your rage	W
Free him from cellarage	W
	-
'Tis said I brew stiff drink	X
But the deuce a flavor of grape is there	N
Hardly a May go down 'tis just	R
A sort of a gruff Go down it must	R
No Merry go down no gracious gust	R
Commingles the racy with Springtide's rare	N
What wonder say you that we cough and blink	X
At Autumn's heady drink	X
	-
Is it a fancy friends	R
Mighty and mellow are never mixed	R
Though mighty and mellow be born at once	R
Sweet for the future strong for the nonce	R
Stuff you should stow away ensconce	R
In the deep and dark to be found fast fixed	R
At the century's close such time strength spends	R
A sweetening for my friends	R
	-
And then why what you quaff	Y
With a smack of lip and a cluck of tongue	Z
Is leakage and leavings just what haps	R
From the tun some learned taster taps	R
With a promise Prepare your watery chaps	R
Here's properest wine for old and young	Z
Dispute its perfection you make us laugh	Y
Have faith give thanks but quaff	Y
	-
Leakage I say or worse	R
Leavings suffice pot valiant souls	R
Somebody brimful long ago	Q
Frothed flagon he drained to the dregs and lo	Q
Down whisker and beard what an overflow	Q
Lick spilth that has trickled from classic jowls	R
Sup the single scene sip the only verse	R
Old wine not new and worse	R
	-
I grant you worse by much	A2
Renounce that new where you never gained	R
One glow at heart one gleam at head	R
And stick to the warrant of age instead	R
No dwarf's lap Fatten by giants fed	R
You fatten with oceans of drink undrained	R
You feed who would choke did a cobweb smutch	A2
The Age you love so much	A2
	-
A mine's beneath a moor	B2
Acres of moor roof fathoms of mine	A
Which diamonds dot where you please to dig	C2
Yet who plies spade for the bright and big	C2
Your product is truffles you hunt with a pig	C2
Since bright and big when a man would dine	A
Suits badly and therefore the Koh i noor	B2
May sleep in mine 'neath moor	B2
	-
Wine pulse in might from me	C
It may never emerge in must from vat	R
Never fill cask nor furnish can	D2
Never end sweet which strong began	D2
God's gift to gladden the heart of man	D2
But spirit's at proof I promise that	R
No sparing of juice spoils what should be	C
Fit brewage mine for me	C
	-
Man's thoughts and loves and hates	R
Earth is my vineyard these grew there	B2
From grape of the ground I made or marred	R
My vintage easy the task or hard	R
Who set it his praise be my reward	R
Earth's yield Who yearn for the Dark Blue Sea's	R
Let them lay pray bray the addle pates	R
Mine be Man's thoughts loves hates	R
	-
But some one says Good Sir	B2
'Tis a worthy versed in what concerns	R
The making such labor turn out well	V
You don't suppose that the nosegay smell	V
Needs always come from the grape Each bell	V
At your foot each bud that your culture spurns	R
The very cowslip would act like myrrh	B2
On the stiffest brew good Sir	B2
	-
Cowslips abundant birth	I
O'er meadow and hillside vineyard too	R
Like a schoolboy's scrawlings in and out	R
Distasteful lesson book all about	R
Greece and Rome victory and rout	R
Love verses instead of such vain ado	R
So fancies frolic it o'er the earth	I
Where thoughts have rightlier birth	I
	-
Nay thoughtlings they themselves	R
Loves hates in little and less and least	R
Thoughts 'What is a man beside a mount '	-
Loves 'Absent poor lovers the minutes count '	-
Hates 'Fie Pope's letters to Martha Blount '	-
These furnish a wine for a children's feast	R
Insipid to man they suit the elves	R
Like thoughts loves hates themselves	R
	-
And friends beyond dispute	R
I too have the cowslips dewy and dear	B2
Punctual as Springtide forth peep they	R
I leave them to make my meadow gay	R
But I ought to pluck and impound them eh	E2
Not let them alone but deftly shear	B2
And shred and reduce to what may suit	R
Children beyond dispute	R
	-
And here's May month all bloom	F2
All bounty what if I sacrifice	R
If I out with shears and shear nor stop	G2
Shearing till prostrate lo the crop	G2
And will you prefer it to ginger pop	G2
When I've made you wine of the memories	R
Which leave as bare as a churchyard tomb	F2
My meadow late all bloom	F2
	-
Nay what ingratitude	R
Should I hesitate to amuse the wits	R
That have pulled so long at my flask nor grudged	R
The headache that paid their pains nor budged	R
From bunghole before they sighed and judged	R
Too rough for our taste to day befits	R
The racy and right when the years conclude	R
Out on ingratitude	R
	-
Grateful or ingrate none	H2
No cowslip of all my fairy crew	R
Shall help to concoct what makes you wink	X
And goes to your head till you think you think	X
I like them alive the printer's ink	X
Would sensibly tell on the perfume too	R
I may use up my nettles ere I've done	H2
But of cowslips friends get none	H2
	-
Don't nettles make a broth	I
Wholesome for blood grown lazy and thick	I2
Maws out of sorts make mouths out of taste	R
My Thirty four Port no need to waste	R
On a tongue that's fur and a palate paste	R
A magnum for friends who are sound the sick	I2
I'll posset and cosset them nothing loth	I
Henceforward with nettle broth	I