The Conundrum Of The Workshops Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABB CCDD EBBBB BBFF GGBB HHBB BBIBB JJCC| When the flush of a new born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold | A |
| Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould | A |
| And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart | B |
| Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves quot It's pretty but is it Art quot | B |
| - | |
| Wherefore he called to his wife and fled to fashion his work anew | C |
| The first of his race who cared a fig for the first most dread review | C |
| And he left his lore to the use of his sons and that was a glorious gain | D |
| When the Devil chuckled quot Is it Art quot in the ear of the branded Cain | D |
| - | |
| They fought and they talked in the North and the South | E |
| they talked and they fought in the West | B |
| Till the waters rose on the pitiful land and the poor Red Clay had rest | B |
| Had rest till that dank blank canvas dawn when the dove was preened to start | B |
| And the Devil bubbled below the keel quot It's human but is it Art quot | B |
| - | |
| They builded a tower to shiver the sky and wrench the stars apart | B |
| Till the Devil grunted behind the bricks quot It's striking but is it Art quot | B |
| The stone was dropped at the quarry side and the idle derrick swung | F |
| While each man talked of the aims of Art and each in an alien tongue | F |
| - | |
| The tale is as old as the Eden Tree and new as the new cut tooth | G |
| For each man knows ere his lip thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth | G |
| And each man hears as the twilight nears to the beat of his dying heart | B |
| The Devil drum on the darkened pane quot You did it but was it Art quot | B |
| - | |
| We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice peg | H |
| We have learned to bottle our parents twain in the yelk of an addled egg | H |
| We know that the tail must wag the dog for the horse is drawn by the cart | B |
| But the Devil whoops as he whooped of old quot It's clever but is it Art quot | B |
| - | |
| When the flicker of London sun falls faint on the Club room's green and gold | B |
| The sons of Adam sit them down and scratch with their pens in the mould | B |
| They scratch with their pens in the mould of their graves | I |
| and the ink and the anguish start | B |
| For the Devil mutters behind the leaves quot It's pretty but is it Art quot | B |
| - | |
| Now if we could win to the Eden Tree where the Four Great Rivers flow | J |
| And the Wreath of Eve is red on the turf as she left it long ago | J |
| And if we could come when the sentry slept and softly scurry through | C |
| By the favour of God we might know as much as our father Adam knew | C |
Rudyard Kipling
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