The Brute Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCCCDB EEFGGGFF AAHIIIHJ KKLMMMLL NNAOOOAA PPQR RQ SSTAATT UUVWWWXV CCAYRYAAA IIIZZZA2A2A2

Through his might men work their willsA
They have boweled out the hillsA
For food to keep him toiling in the cages they have wroughtB
And they fling him hour by hourC
Limbs of men to give him powerC
Brains of men to give him cunning and for dainties to devourC
Children's souls the little worth hearts of women cheaply boughtD
He takes them and he breaks them but he gives them scanty thoughtB
-
For about the noisy landE
Roaring quivering 'neath his handE
His thoughts brood fierce and sullen or laugh in lust of prideF
O'er the stubborn things that heG
Breaks to dust and brings to beG
Some he mightily establishes some flings down utterlyG
There is thunder in his stride nothing ancient can abideF
When he hales the hills together and bridles up the tideF
-
Quietude and lovelinessA
Holy sights that heal and blessA
They are scattered and abolished where his iron hoof is setH
When he splashes through the braeI
Silver streams are choked with clayI
When he snorts the bright cliffs crumble and the woods go down like hayI
He lairs in pleasant cities and the haggard people fretH
Squalid 'mid their new got riches soot begrimed and desolateJ
-
They who caught and bound him tightK
Laughed exultant at his mightK
Saying Now behold the good time comes for the weariest and the leastL
We will use this lusty knaveM
No more need for men to slaveM
We may rise and look about us and have knowledge ere the graveM
But the Brute said in his breast Till the mills I grind have ceasedL
The riches shall be dust of dust dry ashes be the feastL
-
On the strong and cunning fewN
Cynic favors I will strewN
I will stuff their maw with overplus until their spirit diesA
From the patient and the lowO
I will take the joys they knowO
They shall hunger after vanities and still an hungered goO
Madness shall be on the people ghastly jealousies ariseA
Brother's blood shall cry on brother up the dead and empty skiesA
-
I will burn and dig and hackP
Till the heavens suffer lackP
God shall feel a pleasure fail him crying to his cherubimQ
'Who hath flung yon mud ball thereR
Where my world went green and fair '-
I shall laugh and hug me hearing how his sentinels declareR
''T is the Brute they chained to labor He has made the bright earth dimQ
Store of wares and pelf a plenty but they got no good of him '-
-
So he plotted in his rageS
So he deals it age by ageS
But even as he roared his curse a still small Voice befellT
Lo a still and pleasant voice bade them none the less rejoiceA
For the Brute must bring the good time on he has no other choiceA
He may struggle sweat and yell but he knows exceeding wellT
He must work them out salvation ere they send him back to hellT
-
All the desert that he madeU
He must treble bless with shadeU
In primal wastes set precious seed of rapture and of painV
All the strongholds that he builtW
For the powers of greed and guiltW
He must strew their bastions down the sea and choke their towers with siltW
He must make the temples clean for the gods to come againX
And lift the lordly cities under skies without a stainV
-
In a very cunning tetherC
He must lead the tyrant weatherC
He must loose the curse of Adam from the worn neck of the raceA
He must cast out hate and fearY
Dry away each fruitless tearR
And make the fruitful tears to gush from the deep heart and clearY
He must give each man his portion each his pride and worthy placeA
He must batter down the arrogant and lift the weary faceA
On each vile mouth set purity on each low forehead graceA
-
Then perhaps at the last dayI
They will whistle him awayI
Lay a hand upon his muzzle in the face of God and sayI
Honor Lord the Thing we tamedZ
Let him not be scourged or blamedZ
Even through his wrath and fierceness was thy fierce wroth world reclaimedZ
Honor Thou thy servants' servant let thy justice now be shownA2
Then the Lord will heed their saying and the Brute come to his ownA2
'Twixt the Lion and the Eagle by the armpost of the ThroneA2

William Vaughn Moody



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation

About The Brute

The Brute is a poem by William Vaughn Moody. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



Write your comment about The Brute poem by William Vaughn Moody


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 63 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets