Ballade Mystique
Clive Staples Lewis 1898 (Clive Staples Lewis Belfast) – 1963 (Oxford)
The big, red-house is bare and lone
The stony garden waste and sere
With blight of breezes ocean blown
To pinch the wakening of the year;
My kindly friends with busy cheer
My wretchedness could plainly show.
They tell me I am lonely here—
What do they know? What do they know?
They think that while the gables moan
And easements creak in winter drear
I should be piteously alone
Without the speech of comrades dear;
And friendly for my sake they fear,
It grieves them thinking of me so
While all their happy life is near—
What do they know? What do they know?
That I have seen the Dagda’s throne
In sunny lands without a tear
And found a forest all my own
To ward with magic shield and spear,
Where, through the stately towers I rear
For my desire, around me go
Immortal shapes of beauty clear:
They do not know, they do not know.
L’ENVOI
The friends I have without a peer
Beyond the western ocean’s glow,
Whither the faerie galleys steer,
They do not know: how should they know?
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 55 sec read
- 116 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ababbcxC ababbcbC axabbcbc xbcbc |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 969 |
Words | 186 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 5 |
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"Ballade Mystique" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/6930/ballade-mystique>.
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