Analysis of The Hanging Judge
I am the Judge, the flower of the law,
Bolstered in, privileged, all men’s awe;
When I am pleased to display my wit
The court is a-cackle with joy of it;
When my liver is slightly out of order
Woe to who crosses me—barrister, warder!
How do I rule the obsequious gang?
The secret is simple—I always hang!
One plant in my legal garden grows:
The mandrake’s shriek is the solace I chose;
And I water my treasure whenever I can
With the blood that drips from a gibbeted man.
Justice? Fiddlesticks! Mercy? Fudge!
I am the Judge!
I am the Judge. I like to dine
Before I charge: then, flushed with wine,
I bully the jury into submission
And rise to the height of judicial ambition.
O how I thrill deliciously
At the wretch in his anguish under me!
I gather my brows in a terrible frown,
The slow beads drop from his forehead down;
I lower my voice, and my eyes I roll:
“The Lord have mercy upon your soul!”
He lifts his hands; but—“Sheriff!” I shout,
And his knees give way as they drag him out.
Into eternity he shall trudge.
I am the Judge!
I am the Judge. A Judge should be
A pattern of humble piety.
A week well spent brings Sabbath content:
To church my steps are piously bent.
When the holy man reads the holy book
I grieve for the god, by gods forsook,
So clumsily crucified: pity rises
He was not a remanet to My assizes!
But when at the door they stand aside
To watch me pass, how I swell with pride
To hear them say, “That’s Him all right!
He hanged another one yesterday night!
The jury cried mercy, he wouldn’t budge,
He is the Judge!”
I am the Judge. When at Michael’s trump
The dead from their mouldering sepulchres jump,
And the Great Judge sits on his jewelled throne
To give each man the crop he has sown,
Up I’ll come with my little lot
Taut in the loop of a hangman’s knot!
I will bring them trooping, trooping in
With my quaint black halter-mark under each chin:
“Sweet Lord! the fruit of my gallows tree;
The images I have made of Thee!”…
Lo, he doffs his robes and his golden crown;
He kneels at my feet in obeisance down—
“Make me your servant, usher, drudge:
You are the Judge!”
I shall be Judge. And O, ’t will be merry
With Space one vast gaol cemetery!
For I’ll choke the choir at their morning hymn
And I’ll stifle the star-eyed seraphim:
I will hang the gods, I will hang the devils,
I’ll throttle the imps in the midst of their revels;
And when remains of all Creation,
But one alive from strangulation,
To my own soul’s throat a garrote I’ll fit
With a long drop into the bottomless Pit:
I’ll leap from the dais exultingly,
And while I smother in agony
Of the whole hushed Universe I will swear
I am the Executioner.
Scheme | abccddeeffgghHiijjkkllmmnnhHkkooppqfrrsshhttuuvvwwkkllhhkkxyzzjjccak1 d |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (24%) Tetractys (23%) |
Metre | 1101010101 10010111 111110111 0110101111 11101101110 11110110010 1111001001 010110111 110110101 011101011 011011001011 101111011 101101 1101 11011111 01111111 11001001010 011011010010 11110100 1010110101 11011001001 011111101 1101101111 011100111 111111011 0111111111 010100111 1101 11010111 010110100 011111010 111111001 1010110101 111011101 1100101010 11101111 111011101 111111111 11111111 110101101 010110111 1101 110111101 0111111 001111111 111101111 11111101 10011011 111110100 11111011011 110111101 010011111 1111101101 11111011 11110101 1101 11110111110 11111100 11101011101 01100111 11101111010 110010011110 010111010 11011010 111110111 10110101001 111011 011100100 101110111 1100100 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,638 |
Words | 511 |
Sentences | 33 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 70 |
Lines Amount | 70 |
Letters per line (avg) | 29 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 2,029 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 504 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 03, 2023
- 2:33 min read
- 146 Views
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"The Hanging Judge" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 3 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/949/the-hanging-judge>.
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