Time's Revenges Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEAFFGGHHIIJK LLAAMMNOPP QQIIRRAASSTTUUVWXXYY ZZA2A2B2B2C2C2AAC2C2 BB D2D2

I've a Friend over the seaA
I like him but he loves meA
It all grew out of the books I writeB
They find such favour in his sightB
That he slaughters you with savage looksC
Because you don't admire my booksC
He does himself though and if some veinD
Were to snap to night in this heavy brainD
To morrow month if I lived to tryE
Round should I just turn quietlyA
Or out of the bedclothes stretch my handF
Till I found him come from his foreign landF
To be my nurse in this poor placeG
And make my broth and wash my faceG
And light my fire and all the whileH
Bear with his old good humoured smileH
That I told him Better have kept awayI
Than come and kill me night and dayI
With worse than fever throbs and shootsJ
The creaking of his clumsy boots ''K
I am as sure that this he would doL
As that Saint Paul's is striking twoL
And I think I rather woe is meA
Yes rather would see him than not seeA
If lifting a hand could seat him thereM
Before me in the empty chairM
To night when my head aches indeedN
And I can neither think nor readO
Nor make these purple fingers holdP
The pen this garret's freezing coldP
-
And I've a Lady there he wakesQ
The laughing fiend and prince of snakesQ
Within me at her name to prayI
Fate send some creature in the wayI
Of my love for her to be down tornR
Upthrust and outward borneR
So I might prove myself that seaA
Of passion which I needs must beA
Call my thoughts false and my fancies quaintS
And my style infirm and its figures faintS
All the critics say and more blame yetT
And not one angry word you getT
But please you wonder I would putU
My cheek beneath that lady's footU
Rather than trample under mineV
The laurels of the FlorentineW
And you shall see how the devil spendsX
A fire God gave for other endsX
I tell you I stride up and downY
This garret crowned with love's best crownY
And feasted with love's perfect feastZ
To think I kill for her at leastZ
Body and soul and peace and fameA2
Alike youth's end and manhood's aimA2
So is my spirit as flesh with sinB2
Filled full eaten out and inB2
With the face of her the eyes of herC2
The lips the little chin the stirC2
Of shadow round her month and sheA
I'll tell you calmly would decreeA
That I should roast at a slow fireC2
If that would compass her desireC2
And make her one whom they inviteB
To the famous ball to morrow nightB
-
There may be heaven there must be hellD2
Meantime there is our earth here wellD2

Robert Browning



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