Analysis of The Church-Builder
Thomas Hardy 1840 (Stinsford) – 1928 (Dorchester, Dorset)
The church flings forth a battled shade
Over the moon-blanched sward:
The church; my gift; whereto I paid
My all in hand and hoard;
Lavished my gains
With stintless pains
To glorify the Lord.
I squared the broad foundations in
Of ashlared masonry;
I moulded mullions thick and thin,
Hewed fillet and ogee;
I circleted
Each sculptured head
With nimb and canopy.
I called in many a craftsmaster
To fix emblazoned glass,
To figure Cross and Sepulchure
On dossal, boss, and brass.
My gold all spent,
My jewels went
To gem the cups of Mass.
I borrowed deep to carve the screen
And raise the ivoried Rood;
I parted with my small demesne
To make my owings good.
Heir-looms unpriced
I sacrificed,
Until debt-free I stood.
So closed the task. "Deathless the Creed
Here substanced!" said my soul:
"I heard me bidden to this deed,
And straight obeyed the call.
Illume this fane,
That not in vain
I build it, Lord of all!"
But, as it chanced me, then and there
Did dire misfortunes burst;
My home went waste for lack of care,
My sons rebelled and curst;
Till I confessed
That aims the best
Were looking like the worst.
Enkindled by my votive work
No burnng faith I find;
The deeper thinkers sneer and smirk,
And give my toil no mind;
From nod and wink
I read they think
That I am fool and blind.
My gift to God seems futile, quite;
The world moves as erstwhile;
And powerful Wrong on feeble Right
Tramples in olden style.
My faith burns down,
I see no crown;
But Cares, and Griefs, and Guile.
So now, the remedy? Yea, this:
I gently swing the door
Here, of my fane--no soul to wis--
And cross the patterned floor
To the rood-screen
That stands between
The nave and inner chore.
The rich red windows dim the moon,
But little light need I;
I mount the prie-dieu, lately hewn
From woods of rarest dye;
Then from below
My garment, so,
I draw this cord, and tie
One end thereof around the beam
Midway 'twixt Cross and truss:
I noose the nethermost extreme,
And in ten seconds thus
I journey hence--
To that land whence
No rumour reaches us.
Well: Here at morn they'll light on one
Dangling in mockery
Of what he spent his substance on
Blindly and uselessly!...
"He might," they'll say,
"Have built, some way,
A cheaper gallows-tree!"
Scheme | ABABCCB DEDXAXE EFEFGGF HXDIAXI JKJLMML NONAPPO QRQRSSR TUTUVVU WXWXHHX YZYZ1 1 Z 2 3 2 3 4 4 3 XEXK5 5 E |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01110101 100111 0111111 110101 1011 111 11001 11010100 11100 111101 10101 11 1101 110100 1101001 110101 110101 11101 1111 1101 110111 1111101 01011 1101111 111101 111 110 011111 1101101 11111 11110111 010101 111 1101 111111 11111101 110101 11111111 110101 1101 1101 010101 11111 11111 01010101 011111 1101 1111 111101 11111101 01111 010011101 100101 1111 1111 110101 11010011 110101 11111111 010101 1011 1101 010101 01110101 110111 11011101 111101 1101 1101 111101 1110101 11101 110101 001101 1101 1111 10101 11111111 1000100 11111101 1001 1111 1111 010101 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,224 |
Words | 411 |
Sentences | 20 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7 |
Lines Amount | 84 |
Letters per line (avg) | 20 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 143 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 34 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 13, 2023
- 2:02 min read
- 127 Views
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"The Church-Builder" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/36489/the-church-builder>.
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