Analysis of Finis Aeternitatis

Ambrose Bierce 1842 (Meigs County) – 1914 (Chihuahua)



Strolling at sunset in my native land,
With fruits and flowers thick on either hand,
I crossed a Shadow flung athwart my way,
Emerging on a waste of rock and sand.

'The apples all are gone from here,' I said,
'The roses perished and their spirits fled.
I will go back.' A voice cried out: 'The man
Is risen who eternally was dead!'

I turned and saw an angel standing there,
Newly descended from the heights of air.
Sweet-eyed compassion filled his face, his hands
A naked sword and golden trumpet bare.

'Nay, 'twas not death, the shadow that I crossed,'
I said. 'Its chill was but a touch of frost.
It made me gasp, but quickly I came through,
With breath recovered ere it scarce was lost.'

'Twas the same land! Remembered mountains thrust
Grayed heads asky, and every dragging gust,
In ashen valleys where my sons had reaped,
Stirred in familiar river-beds the dust.

Some heights, where once the traveler was shown
The youngest and the proudest city known,
Lifted smooth ridges in the steely light
Bleak, desolate acclivities of stone.

Where I had worshiped at my father's tomb,
Within a massive temple's awful gloom,
A jackal slunk along the naked rock,
Affrighted by some prescience of doom.

Man's vestiges were nowhere to be found,
Save one brass mausoleum on a mound
(I knew it well) spared by the artist Time
To emphasize the desolation round.

Into the stagnant sea the sullen sun
Sank behind bars of crimson, one by one.
'Eternity's at hand!' I cried aloud.
'Eternity,' the angel said, 'is done.

For man is ages dead in every zone;
The angels all are dead but I alone;
The devils, too, are cold enough at last,
And God lies dead before the great white throne!

'Tis foreordained that I bestride the shore
When all are gone (as Gabriel did before,
When I had throttled the last man alive)
And swear Eternity shall be no more.'

'O Azrael-O Prince of Death, declare
Why conquered I the grave?' I cried. 'What rare,
Conspicuous virtues won this boon for me?'
'You've been revived,' he said, 'to hear me swear.'

'Then let me creep again beneath the grass,
And knock thou at yon pompous tomb of brass.
If ears are what you want, Charles Crocker's there
Betwixt the greatest ears, the greatest ass.'

He rapped, and while the hollow echoes rang,
Out at the door a curst hyena sprang
And fled! Said Azrael: 'His soul's escaped,'
And closed the brazen portal with a bang.


Scheme AAXA BBXB CCXC DDXD EEXE FFXF GGXG HHXH IIXI FFXF JJXJ CCXC KKCK LLXL
Poetic Form
Metre 101101101 1101011101 110110111 0101011101 0101111111 0101001101 1111011101 1101010011 1101110101 1001010111 1101011111 0101010101 111101111 1111110111 1111110111 1101011111 1011010101 1110100101 0101011111 1001010101 1111010011 0100010101 1011000101 1100111 1111011101 0101010101 0101010101 11110011 110001111 111010101 1111110101 11000101 0101010101 1011110111 1111101 0100010111 11110101001 0101111101 0101110111 0111010111 1111101 11111100101 1111001101 0101001111 11111101 1101011111 01001011111 1101111111 1111010101 0111110111 1111111101 0101010101 1101010101 1101010101 01111101 0101010101
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,320
Words 439
Sentences 29
Stanzas 14
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 56
Letters per line (avg) 33
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 131
Words per stanza (avg) 30
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 30, 2023

2:09 min read
118

Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce was an American editorialist, journalist, short story writer, fabulist, and satirist. more…

All Ambrose Bierce poems | Ambrose Bierce Books

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