Analysis of A Reply To A Letter
Ambrose Bierce 1842 (Meigs County) – 1914 (Chihuahua)
O nonsense, parson-tell me not they thrive
And jubilate who follow your dictation.
The good are the unhappiest lot alive
I know they are from careful observation.
If freedom from the terrors of damnation
Lengthens the visage like a telescope,
And lacrymation is a sign of hope,
Then I'll continue, in my dreadful plight,
To tread the dusky paths of sin, and grope
Contentedly without your lantern's light;
And though in many a bog beslubbered quite,
Refuse to flay me with ecclesiastic soap.
You say 'tis a sad world, seeing I'm condemned,
With many a million others of my kidney.
Each continent's Hammed, Japheted and Shemmed
With sinners-worldlings like Sir Philip Sidney
And scoffers like Voltaire, who thought it bliss
To simulate respect for Genesis
Who bent the mental knee as if in prayer,
But mocked at Moses underneath his hair,
And like an angry gander bowed his head to hiss.
Seeing such as these, who die without contrition,
Must go to-beg your pardon, sir-perdition,
The sons of light, you tell me, can't be gay,
But count it sin of the sort called omission
The groan to smother or the tear to stay
Or fail to-what is that they live by?-pray.
So down they flop, and the whole serious race is
Put by divine compassion on a praying basis.
Well, if you take it so to heart, while yet
Our own hearts are so light with nature's leaven,
You'll weep indeed when we in Hades sweat,
And you look down upon us out of Heaven.
In fancy, lo! I see your wailing shades
Thronging the crystal battlements. Cascades
Of tears spring singing from each golden spout,
Run roaring from the verge with hoarser sound,
Dash downward through the glimmering profound,
Quench the tormenting flame and put the Devil out!
Presumptuous ass! to you no power belongs
To pitchfork me to Heaven upon the prongs
Of a bad pen, whose disobedient sputter,
With less of ink than incoherence fraught
Befits the folly that it tries to utter.
Brains, I observe, as well as tongues, can stutter:
You suffer from impediment of thought.
When next you 'point the way to Heaven,' take care:
Your fingers all being thumbs, point, Heaven knows where!
Farewell, poor dunce! your letter though I blame,
Bears witness how my anger I can tame:
I've called you everything except your hateful name!
Scheme | ABABBCCDCDDC XEDEFGHHF BBIBIIXG JBJBKKLMML NNOPOOP HHQQQ |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101011111 011101010 01101101 1111110010 11010101010 100101010 0110111 1101001101 110111101 010001111 010100111 01111100101 11101110101 110010101110 11001101 1101111010 011011111 1100011100 1101011101 111100111 011101011111 101111101010 111111011 0111111111 11111011010 0111010111 1111111111 111100110011 1101010101010 1111111111 101111111010 1101110101 01110111110 0101111101 101010001 1111011101 110101111 1101010001 10101010101 010011111001 1111100101 10111010010 1111100101 01010111110 11011111110 1101010011 11110111011 110110111011 111110111 1101110111 11110011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,213 |
Words | 398 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 12, 9, 8, 10, 7, 5 |
Lines Amount | 51 |
Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 297 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 66 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:01 min read
- 104 Views
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"A Reply To A Letter" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/1656/a-reply-to-a-letter>.
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