The Bishop Orders His Tomb At Saint Praxed's Church Rome Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Vanity 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 aery 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 vizor 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

The Bishop Orders His Tomb At Saint Praxed's Church Rome Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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