Analysis of Magdalen
All things I can endure, save one.
The bare, blank room where is no sun;
The parcelled hours; the pallet hard;
The dreary faces here within;
The outer women's cold regard;
The Pastor's iterated "sin";--
These things could I endure, and count
No overstrain'd, unjust amount;
No undue payment for such bliss--
Yea, all things bear, save only this:
That you, who knew what thing would be,
Have wrought this evil unto me.
It is so strange to think on still--
That you, that you should do me ill!
Not as one ignorant or blind,
But seeing clearly in your mind
How this must be which now has been,
Nothing aghast at what was seen.
Now that the tale is told and done,
It is so strange to think upon.
You were so tender with me, too!
One summer's night a cold blast blew,
Closer about my throat you drew
That half-slipt shawl of dusky blue.
And once my hand, on summer's morn,
I stretched to pluck a rose; a thorn
Struck through the flesh and made it bleed
(A little drop of blood indeed!)
Pale grew your cheek you stoopt and bound
Your handkerchief about the wound;
Your voice came with a broken sound;
With the deep breath your breast was riven;
I wonder, did God laugh in Heaven?
How strange, that you should work my woe!
How strange! I wonder, do you know
How gladly, gladly I had died
(And life was very sweet that tide)
To save you from the least, light ill?
How gladly I had borne your pain.
With one great pulse we seem'd to thrill,--
Nay, but we thrill'd with pulses twain.
Even if one had told me this,
"A poison lurks within your kiss,
Gall that shall turn to night his day:"
Thereon I straight had turned away--
Ay, tho' my heart had crack'd with pain--
And never kiss'd your lips again.
At night, or when the daylight nears,
I hear the other women weep;
My own heart's anguish lies too deep
For the soft rain and pain of tears.
I think my heart has turn'd to stone,
A dull, dead weight that hurts my breast;
Here, on my pallet-bed alone,
I keep apart from all the rest.
Wide-eyed I lie upon my bed,
I often cannot sleep all night;
The future and the past are dead,
There is no thought can bring delight.
All night I lie and think and think;
If my heart were not made of stone,
But flesh and blood, it needs must shrink
Before such thoughts. Was ever known
A woman with a heart of stone?
The doctor says that I shall die.
It may be so, yet what care I?
Endless reposing from the strife?
Death do I trust no more than life.
For one thing is like one arrayed,
And there is neither false nor true;
But in a hideous masquerade
All things dance on, the ages through.
And good is evil, evil good;
Nothing is known or understood
Save only Pain. I have no faith
In God, or Devil, Life or Death.
The doctor says that I shall die.
You, that I knew in days gone by,
I fain would see your face once more,
Con well its features o'er and o'er;
And touch your hand and feel your kiss,
Look in your eyes and tell you this:
That all is done, that I am free;
That you, through all eternity,
Have neither part nor lot in me.
Scheme | aabcbcddeeffgghhcxaxiiiijjkklllaa mmnngogo eeppox xqqxrsrstutuvrvrr Wwxxyiyizzxx Wwxxeefff |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 11110111 01111111 01100101 01010101 01010101 01011 11110101 110101 10110111 11111101 11111111 11110101 11111111 11111111 11110011 11010011 11111111 10011111 11011101 11111101 10110111 11010111 10011111 1111111 01111101 11110101 11010111 01011101 11111101 11000101 11110101 101111110 110111010 11111111 11110111 11010111 01110111 11110111 11011111 11111111 11111101 10111111 01010111 11111111 01111101 11111111 01011101 1111011 11010101 11110111 10110111 11111111 01111111 11110101 11011101 11110111 11010111 01000111 11111101 11110101 11101111 11011111 01111101 01010111 01011111 11111111 101101 11111111 11111101 01110111 10010001 11110101 01110101 1011101 11011111 01110111 01011111 11110111 11111111 1111010010 01110111 10110111 11111111 11110100 11011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,933 |
Words | 589 |
Sentences | 30 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 33, 8, 6, 17, 12, 9 |
Lines Amount | 85 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 382 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 97 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 21, 2023
- 3:00 min read
- 199 Views
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"Magdalen" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/2137/magdalen>.
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