Analysis of The Moat House
Edith Nesbit 1858 (Kennington, Surrey ) – 1924 (New Romney, Kent)
UNDER the shade of convent towers,
Where fast and vigil mark the hours,
From childhood into youth there grew
A maid as fresh as April dew,
And sweet as May's ideal flowers,
Brighter than dawn in wind-swept skies,
Like children's dreams most pure, unwise,
Yet with a slumbering soul-fire too,
That sometimes shone a moment through
Her wondrous unawakened eyes.
The nuns, who loved her coldly, meant
The twig should grow as it was bent;
That she, like them, should watch youth's bier,
Should watch her day-dreams disappear,
And go the loveless way they went.
The convent walls were high and grey;
How could Love hope to find a way
Into that citadel forlorn,
Where his dear name was put to scorn,
Or called a sinful thing to say?
Yet Love did come; what need to tell
Of flowers downcast, that sometimes fell
Across her feet when dreamily
She paced, with unused breviary,
Down paths made still with August's spell--
Of looks cast through the chapel grate,
Of letters helped by Love and Fate,
That to cold fingers did not come
But lay within a warmer home,
Upon her heart inviolate?
Somehow he loved her--she loved him:
Then filled her soul's cup to the brim,
And all her daily life grew bright
With such a flood of rosy light
As turned the altar candles dim.
But love that lights is love that leads,
And lives upon the heart it feeds;
Soon grew she pale though not less fair,
And sighed his name instead of prayer,
And told her heart-throbs, not her beads.
How could she find the sunlight fair,
A sunlight that he did not share?
How could a rose smell sweet within
The cruel bars that shut her in,
And shut him out while she was there?
He vowed her fealty firm and fast,
Then to the winds her fears she cast;
They found a way to cheat the bars,
And in free air, beneath free stars,
Free, and with him, she stood at last.
'Now to some priest,' he said, 'that he
May give thee--blessing us--to me.'
'No priest,' she cried in doubt and fear,
'He would divide, not join us, dear.
I am mine--I give myself to thee.
'Since thou and I are mine and thine,
What need to swear it at a shrine?
Would love last longer if we swore
That we would love for evermore?
God gives me thee--and thou art mine.'
'God weds us now,' he said, 'yet still
Some day shall we all forms fulfil.
Eternal truth affords to smile
At laws wherewith man marks his guile,
Yet law shall join us--when you will.
'So look your last, my love, on these
Forbidding walls and wooing trees.
Farewell to grief and gloom,' said he;
'Farewell to childhood's joy,' said she;
But neither said, 'Farewell to peace.'
My sweet, my sweet,
She is complete
From dainty head to darling feet;
So warm and white,
So brown and bright,
So made for love and love's delight.
God could but spare
One flower so fair,
There is none like her anywhere;
Beneath wide skies
The whole earth lies,
But not two other such brown eyes.
The world we're in,
If one might win?
Not worth that dimple in her chin
A heaven to know?
I'll let that go
But once to see her lids droop low
Over her eyes,
By love made wise:
To see her bosom fall and rise
Is more than worth
The angels' mirth,
And all the heaven-joys of earth.
This is the hour
Which gives me power
To win and wear earth's whitest flower.
Oh, Love, give grace,
Through all life's ways
Keep pure this heart, her dwelling place.
The fields were reaped and the pastures bare,
And the nights grown windy and chill,
When the lovers passed through the beech woods fair,
And climbed the brow of the hill.
In the hill's spread arm the Moat House lies
With elm and willow tree;
'And is that your home at last?' she sighs.
'Our home at last,' laughs he.
Across the bridge and into the hall
Where the waiting housefolk were.
'This is my lady,' he said to them all,
And she looked so sweet and fair
That every maid and serving-boy
God-blessed them then and there,
And wished them luck, and gave them joy,
For a happy, handsome pair.
And only the old nurse shook her head:
'Too young,' she said, 'too young.'
She noted that no p
Scheme | AABBA CCBBC DDXED FFGGF HHHBH IIXXX JJKKJ LLMML MMNNM OOPPO QQEEQ RRSSR THUUT VVQQX WWWKKK MMMCCC NNNXXX CCCYYY ZZZ1 X1 MTMTCQCQ 2 Z2 M3 M3 M XXQ |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 100111010 110101010 1101111 01111101 01110110 10110111 11011101 1101001101 10110101 01011 01110101 01111111 11111111 1101101 01010111 01010101 11111101 0111001 11111111 11010111 11111111 11011011 010111 111011 11111101 11110101 11011101 11110111 11010101 01010100 1110111 11011101 01010111 11011101 11010101 11111111 01010111 11111111 01110111 01011101 1111011 0111111 11011101 01011100 01111111 110100101 11010111 11011101 00110111 10111111 11111111 11110111 11110101 11011111 11111111 11011101 11111101 11110111 1111110 11110111 11111111 1111111 01010111 1111111 11111111 11111111 01010101 1110111 111111 1101111 1111 1101 11011101 1101 1101 11110101 1111 11011 1111010 0111 0111 11110111 0110 1111 11110001 01011 1111 11110111 1001 1111 11010101 1111 0101 01010111 11010 11110 110111010 1111 1111 11110101 010100101 00111001 1010110111 0101101 001110111 11011 011111111 1011111 010100101 101010 1111011111 0111101 110010101 111101 01110111 1010101 010011101 111111 110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 4,004 |
Words | 765 |
Sentences | 35 |
Stanzas | 22 |
Stanza Lengths | 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 3 |
Lines Amount | 119 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 139 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 34 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:49 min read
- 32 Views
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"The Moat House" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/8986/the-moat-house>.
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