Analysis of In A Castle
Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip -- hiss -- drip -- hiss --
fall the raindrops on the oaken log which burns, and steams,
and smokes the ceiling beams. Drip -- hiss -- the rain never stops.
The wide, state bed shivers beneath its velvet coverlet. Above, dim,
in the smoke, a tarnished coronet gleams dully. Overhead hammers and chinks
the rain. Fearfully wails the wind down distant corridors, and there comes
the swish and sigh of rushes lifted off the floors. The arras blows sidewise
out from the wall, and then falls back again.
It is my lady's key, confided with much nice cunning, whisperingly.
He enters on a sob of wind, which gutters the candles almost to swaling.
The fire flutters and drops. Drip -- hiss -- the rain never stops.
He shuts the door. The rushes fall again to stillness along the floor.
Outside, the wind goes wailing.
The velvet coverlet of the wide bed is smooth and cold. Above,
in the firelight, winks the coronet of tarnished gold. The knight shivers
in his coat of fur, and holds out his hands to the withering flame.
She is always the same, a sweet coquette. He will wait for her.
How the log hisses and drips! How warm and satisfying will be her lips!
It is wide and cold, the state bed; but when her head lies under the coronet,
and her eyes are full and wet with love, and when she holds out her arms,
and the velvet counterpane half slips from her, and alarms
her trembling modesty, how eagerly he will leap to cover her, and blot himself
beneath the quilt, making her laugh and tremble.
Is it guilt to free a lady from her palsied lord, absent and fighting,
terribly abhorred?
He stirs a booted heel and kicks a rolling coal. His spur clinks
on the hearth. Overhead, the rain hammers and chinks. She is so pure
and whole. Only because he has her soul will she resign herself to him,
for where the soul has gone, the body must be given as a sign. He takes her
by the divine right of the only lover. He has sworn to fight her lord,
and wed her after. Should he be overborne, she will die adoring him, forlorn,
shriven by her great love.
Above, the coronet winks in the darkness. Drip -- hiss -- fall the raindrops.
The arras blows out from the wall, and a door bangs in a far-off hall.
The candles swale. In the gale the moat below plunges and spatters.
Will the lady lose courage and not come?
The rain claps on a loosened rafter.
Is that laughter?
The room is filled with lisps and whispers. Something mutters.
One candle drowns and the other gutters. Is that the rain
which pads and patters, is it the wind through the winding entries
which chatters?
The state bed is very cold and he is alone. How far from the wall
the arras is blown!
Christ's Death! It is no storm which makes these little chuckling sounds.
By the Great Wounds of Holy Jesus, it is his dear lady, kissing and
clasping someone! Through the sobbing storm he hears her love take form
and flutter out in words. They prick into his ears and stun his desire,
which lies within him, hard and dead, like frozen fire. And the little noise
never stops.
Drip -- hiss -- the rain drops.
He tears down the arras from before an inner chamber's bolted door.
The state bed shivers in the watery dawn. Drip -- hiss -- fall the raindrops.
For the storm never stops.
On the velvet coverlet lie two bodies, stripped and fair in the cold,
grey air. Drip -- hiss -- fall the blood-drops, for the bleeding never stops.
The bodies lie quietly. At each side of the bed, on the floor, is a head.
A man's on this side, a woman's on that, and the red blood oozes along
the rush mat.
A wisp of paper is twisted carefully into the strands of the dead man's hair.
It says, 'My Lord: Your wife's paramour has paid with his life
for the high favour.'
Through the lady's silver fillet is wound another paper. It reads,
'Most noble Lord: Your wife's misdeeds are as a double-stranded
necklace of beads. But I have engaged that, on your return,
she shall welcome you here. She will not spurn your love as before,
you have still the best part of her. Her blood was red, her body white,
they will both be here for your delight. The soul inside was a lump of dirt,
I have rid you of that with a spurt of my sword point. Good luck
to your pleasure. She will be quite complaisant, my friend, I wager.'
The end was a splashed flourish of ink.
Hark! In the passage is heard the clink of armour, the tread of a heavy man.
The door bursts open and stand
Scheme | AXB CXXXX DEBFE GHXI X XJJXD EK AXCIKXG BD HX I I HXXA DX XXXIXB B F BB XBXEX XXF XXXFXXEIE XX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10010101011111 10110111101 0101011101101 011110011101011 001010101111011001 011101110100011 0101110101010111 1101011101 111101010111101 11010111110010111 01010011101101 11010101011100101 1101110 01011011110101 0011010111010110 0111101111101001 1110101111110 10110011101001101 1110101111011100101 0011101110111101 001011110001 0100100110011111000101 01011001010 11111010101110010 10001 110101010101111 1011010110011111 011001110111010111 1101110101110101110 100111010101111101 010101111111010101 11011 0101011001011101 0111101001100111 0101001010110010 1010110011 011101010 1110 0111110101010 11010010101101 11011101101010 11 01111010110111101 0111 11111111110101 101111010111110100 1110101110111 010101110111011010 110111011101000101 101 11011 1110110111010101 0111000100111101 101101 101011110101001 111110111010101 0101100111101101101 011110101100111001 011 01110110100010110111 111111111111 1011 10101001110101011 110111011101010 10111110111101 111011111111101 1110111001110101 111111101010110111 111111101111111 1110111101011110 011011011 1001011011100110101 0111001 |
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 4,358 |
Words | 838 |
Sentences | 76 |
Stanzas | 22 |
Stanza Lengths | 3, 5, 5, 4, 1, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 1, 1, 4, 2, 6, 1, 1, 2, 5, 3, 9, 2 |
Lines Amount | 73 |
Letters per line (avg) | 47 |
Words per line (avg) | 11 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 155 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 38 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 4:13 min read
- 76 Views
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"In A Castle" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/2236/in-a-castle>.
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