The Bishop Orders His Tomb Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRST FUVWQXYZA2B2C2D2E2F2 G2H2I2J2JK2L2AA2XMM2 KZN2O2P2ABQ2R2AS2PT2 U2V2PAA2A2PW2PX2Y2Z2 A3N2B3C3A3A3PA3KY2D3 A3E3A3KF3A3A2WG3P2H3 I3A3E2A3A3A3A3J3A2A3 K3L3KM3N3O3PN2LN2A3P A3N2A3N2P3P3P3P3PP3Vanity saith the preacher vanity | A |
Draw round my bed is Anselm keeping back | B |
Nephews sons mine ah God I know not Well | C |
She men would have to be your mother once | D |
Old Gandolf envied me so fair she was | E |
What's done is done and she is dead beside | F |
Dead long ago and I am Bishop since | G |
And as she died so must we die ourselves | H |
And thence ye may perceive the world's a dream | I |
Life how and what is it As here I lie | J |
In this state chamber dying by degrees | K |
Hours and long hours in the dead night I ask | L |
Do I live am I dead Peace peace seems all | M |
Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace | N |
And so about this tomb of mine I fought | O |
With tooth and nail to save my niche ye know | P |
Old Gandolf cozened me despite my care | Q |
Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South | R |
He graced his carrion with God curse the same | S |
Yet still my niche is not so cramped but thence | T |
One sees the pulpit o' the epistle side | F |
And somewhat of the choir those silent seats | U |
And up into the very dome where live | V |
The angels and a sunbeam's sure to lurk | W |
And I shall fill my slab of basalt there | Q |
And 'neath my tabernacle take my rest | X |
With those nine columns round me two and two | Y |
The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands | Z |
Peach blossom marble all the rare the ripe | A2 |
As fresh poured red wine of a mighty pulse | B2 |
Old Gandolf with his paltry onion stone | C2 |
Put me where I may look at him True peach | D2 |
Rosy and flawless how I earned the prize | E2 |
Draw close that conflagration of my church | F2 |
What then So much was saved if aught were missed | G2 |
My sons ye would not be my death Go dig | H2 |
The white grape vineyard where the oil press stood | I2 |
Drop water gently till the surface sink | J2 |
And if ye find Ah God I know not I | J |
Bedded in store of rotten fig leaves soft | K2 |
And corded up in a tight olive frail | L2 |
Some lump ah God of lapis lazuli | A |
Big as a Jew's head cut off at the nape | A2 |
Blue as a vein o'er the Madonna's breast | X |
Sons all have I bequeathed you villas all | M |
That brave Frascati villa with its bath | M2 |
So let the blue lump poise between my knees | K |
Like God the Father's globe on both his hands | Z |
Ye worship in the Jesu Church so gay | N2 |
For Gandolf shall not choose but see and burst | O2 |
Swift as a weaver's shuttle fleet our years | P2 |
Man goeth to the grave and where is he | A |
Did I say basalt for my slab sons Black | B |
'Twas ever antique black I meant How else | Q2 |
Shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath | R2 |
The bas relief in bronze ye promised me | A |
Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of and perchance | S2 |
Some tripod thyrsus with a vase or so | P |
The Saviour at his sermon on the mount | T2 |
Saint Praxed in a glory and one Pan | U2 |
Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off | V2 |
And Moses with the tables but I know | P |
Ye mark me not What do they whisper thee | A |
Child of my bowels Anselm Ah ye hope | A2 |
To revel down my villas while I gasp | A2 |
Bricked o'er with beggar's mouldy travertine | P |
Which Gandolf from his tomb top chuckles at | W2 |
Nay boys ye love me all of jasper then | P |
'Tis jasper ye stand pledged to lest I grieve | X2 |
My bath must needs be left behind alas | Y2 |
One block pure green as a pistachio nut | Z2 |
There's plenty jasper somewhere in the world | A3 |
And have I not Saint Praxed's ear to pray | N2 |
Horses for ye and brown Greek manuscripts | B3 |
And mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs | C3 |
That's if ye carve my epitaph aright | A3 |
Choice Latin picked phrase Tully's every word | A3 |
No gaudy ware like Gandolf's second line | P |
Tully my masters Ulpian serves his need | A3 |
And then how I shall lie through centuries | K |
And hear the blessed mutter of the mass | Y2 |
And see God made and eaten all day long | D3 |
And feel the steady candle flame and taste | A3 |
Good strong thick stupefying incense smoke | E3 |
For as I lie here hours of the dead night | A3 |
Dying in state and by such slow degrees | K |
I fold my arms as if they clasped a crook | F3 |
And stretch my feet forth straight as stone can point | A3 |
And let the bedclothes for a mortcloth drop | A2 |
Into great laps and folds of sculptor's work | W |
And as yon tapers dwindle and strange thoughts | G3 |
Grow with a certain humming in my ears | P2 |
About the life before I lived this life | H3 |
And this life too popes cardinals and priests | I3 |
Saint Praxed at his sermon on the mount | A3 |
Your tall pale mother with her talking eyes | E2 |
And new found agate urns as fresh as day | A3 |
And marble's language Latin pure discreet | A3 |
Aha ELUCESCEBAT quoth our friend | A3 |
No Tully said I Ulpian at the best | A3 |
Evil and brief hath been my pilgrimage | J3 |
All lapis all sons Else I give the Pope | A2 |
My villas Will ye ever eat my heart | A3 |
Ever your eyes were as a lizard's quick | K3 |
They glitter like your mother's for my soul | L3 |
Or ye would heighten my impoverished frieze | K |
Piece out its starved design and fill my vase | M3 |
With grapes and add a visor and a Term | N3 |
And to the tripod ye would tie a lynx | O3 |
That in his struggle throws the thyrsus down | P |
To comfort me on my entablature | N2 |
Whereon I am to lie till I must ask | L |
Do I live am I dead There leave me there | N2 |
For ye have stabbed me with ingratitude | A3 |
To death ye wish it God ye wish it Stone | P |
Gritstone a crumble Clammy squares which sweat | A3 |
As if the corpse they keep were oozing through | N2 |
And no more lapis to delight the world | A3 |
Well go I bless ye Fewer tapers there | N2 |
But in a row and going turn your backs | P3 |
Ay like departing altar ministrants | P3 |
And leave me in my church the church for peace | P3 |
That I may watch at leisure if he leers | P3 |
Old Gandolf at me from his onion stone | P |
As still he envied me so fair she was | P3 |
Robert Browning
(1)
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