Analysis of Nephelidia
Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837 (London) – 1909 (London)
From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through a notable nimbus of nebulous noonshine,
Pallid and pink as the palm of the flag-flower that flickers with fear of the flies as they float,
Are they looks of our lovers that lustrously lean from a marvel of mystic miraculous moonshine,
These that we feel in the blood of our blushes that thicken and threaten with throbs through the throat?
Thicken and thrill as a theatre thronged at appeal of an actor's appalled agitation,
Fainter with fear of the fires of the future than pale with the promise of pride in the past;
Flushed with the famishing fullness of fever that reddens with radiance of rathe recreation,
Gaunt as the ghastliest of glimpses that gleam through the gloom of the gloaming when ghosts go aghast?
Nay, for the nick of the tick of the time is a tremulous touch on the temples of terror,
Strained as the sinews yet strenuous with strife of the dead who is dumb as the dust-heaps of death:
Surely no soul is it, sweet as the spasm of erotic emotional exquisite error,
Bathed in the balms of beatified bliss, beatific itself by beatitude's breath.
Surely no spirit or sense of a soul that was soft to the spirit and soul of our senses
Sweetens the stress of suspiring suspicion that sobs in the semblance and sound of a sigh;
Only this oracle opens Olympian, in mystical moods and triangular tenses--
"Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn of the day when we die."
Mild is the mirk and monotonous music of memory, melodiously mute as it may be,
While the hope in the heart of a hero is bruised by the breach of men's rapiers, resigned to the rod;
Made meek as a mother whose bosom-beats bound with the bliss-bringing bulk of a balm-breathing baby,
As they grope through the grave-yard of creeds, under skies growing green at a groan for the grimness of God.
Blank is the book of his bounty beholden of old, and its binding is blacker than bluer:
Out of blue into black is the scheme of the skies, and their dews are the wine of the bloodshed of things;
Till the darkling desire of delight shall be free as a fawn that is freed from the fangs that pursue her,
Till the heart-beats of hell shall be hushed by a hymn from the hunt that has harried the kennel of kings.
Scheme | ABABACACDEDEFGFGHIHIDJDJ |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 101101001101101001011001 10011011011011011101111 11111010111101011001001 11110011101011001011101 1001101001101111001010 10111010101011101011001 11011011011110011010 110111011101101011101 11011011011010011010110 1101110011101111101111 101111110101010010010010 100110101101111 101101110111110100111010 10011101011001001101 10110010010001001001001 1101101101111101101111 110100100101100111111 10100110101110111101101 111010110111011011011010 111101111101101101101011 11011110010110110110110 11101110110101110110111 1010101011111011111011010 101111111101101111001011 |
Characters | 2,252 |
Words | 424 |
Sentences | 7 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 24 |
Lines Amount | 24 |
Letters per line (avg) | 75 |
Words per line (avg) | 18 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,802 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 421 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 13, 2023
- 2:07 min read
- 121 Views
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"Nephelidia" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/1367/nephelidia>.
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