An Artist Poem Rhyme Scheme

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That sculptor we knew the passionate eyed son of a quarryman	A
Who astonished Rome and Paris in his meteor youth and then	A
was gone at his high tide of triumphs	B
Without reason or good bye I have seen him again lately after	C
twenty years but not in Europe	D
	-
In desert hills I rode a horse slack kneed with thirst Down a	E
steep slope a dancing swarm	F
Of yellow butterflies over a shining rock made me hope water	C
We slid down to the place	G
The spring was bitter but the horse drank I imagined wearings	G
of an old path from that wet rock	H
Ran down the canyon I followed soon they were lost I came	I
to a stone valley in which it seemed	J
No man nor his mount had ever ventured you wondered	K
whether even a vulture'd ever spread sail there	L
There were stones of strange form under a cleft in the far hill	M
I tethered the horse to a rock	H
And scrambled over A heap like a stone torrent a moraine	A
But monstrously formed limbs of broken carving appeared in	A
the rock fall enormous breasts defaced heads	G
Of giants the eyes calm through the brute veils of fracture It	N
was natural then to climb higher and go in	A
Up the cleft gate The canyon was a sheer walled crack winding	O
at the entrance but around its bend	P
The walls grew dreadful with stone giants presences growing	O
out of the rigid precipice that strove	Q
In dream between stone and life intense to cast their chaos	G
or to enter and return stone fleshed nerve stretched	R
Great bodies ever more beautiful and more heavy with pain	A
they seemed leading to some unbearable	S
Consummation of the ecstasy but there troll among	T
Titans the bearded master of the place accosted me	U
In a cold anger a mallet in his hand filthy and ragged There	L
was no kindness in that man's mind	V
But after he had driven me down to the entrance he spoke a	E
little	S
	-
The merciless sun had found the slot now	A
To hide in and lit for the wick of that stone lamp bowl a sky	W
almost I thought abominably beautiful	S
While our lost artist we used to admire for now I knew him	X
spoke of his passion	A
	-
He said 'Marble	S
White marble is fit to model a snow mountain let man be	U
modest Nor bronze I am bound to have my tool	S
In my material no irrelevances I found this pit of dark gray	Y
freestone fine grained and tough enough	Z
To make sketches that under any weathering will last my lifetime	A2
	-
The town is eight miles off I can fetch food and no one follows	G
me home I have water and a cave	B2
Here and no possible lack of material I need therefore nothing	O
As to companions I make them	C2
And models They are seldom wanted I know a Basque shepherd	K
I sometimes use and a woman of the town	A
What more Sympathy Praise I have never desired them and	D2
also I have never deserved them I will not show you	E2
More than the spalls you saw by accident	F2
	-
What I see is the enormous	G
beauty of things but what I attempt	G2
Is nothing to that I am helpless toward that	H2
It is only to form in stone the mould of some ideal humanity	U
that might be worthy to be	U
Under that lightning Animalcules that God if he were given	A
to laughter might omit to laugh at	H2
Those children of my hands are tortured because they feel '	-
he said 'the storm of the outer magnificence	G
They are giants in agony They have seen from my eyes	G
The man destroying beauty of the dawns over their notch	I2
yonder and all the obliterating stars	G
But in their eyes they have peace I have lived a little and I	W
think	J2
Peace marrying pain alone can breed that excellence in the	E
luckless race might make it decent	F2
To exist at all on the star lit stone breast	K2
	-
I hope ' he said 'that	K2
when I grow old and the chisel drops	G
I may crawl out on a ledge of the rock and die like a wolf '	-
	-
These	G
fragments are all I can remember	C
These in the flare of the desert evening Having been driven	A
so brutally forth I never returned	K2
Yet I respect him enough to keep his name and the place secret	K2
I hope that some other traveller	C
May stumble on that ravine of Titans after their maker has	G
died While he lives let him alone	A

Robinson Jeffers

An Artist Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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