Porphyria's Lover

[Psychoman]

This is a cool poem I found by Robert Browining. tell me what you think of it...

Porphyria's Lover

The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me -- she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last l knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

[Spooky]

It's alright, nice and long which is good but it wasn't really on an exciting topic. The pattern changes.

Sometimes it will rhyme every second line, sometimes it will rhyme differently, I can't describe it just read:

A
B
A
C
A
C

Then further down:

A
A
B
B

So that's kind of stupid but other than that it's good.

[Psychoman]

the ryhme scheme is unique i think... but what do you think about the poem its self? i could sit and talk about iambic rythem and ryhme schemes all day but the poem is the cool part. one of my favorites.

[ItsMichael]

The actual poem itselfs cool, like what it says and describes.
At least it DOES rhyme wihich makes it catchy in some parts, unlike some people who make thousands and become famous for a fifty page poem that doesn't sound catchy and doesn't rhyme. (I believe it's happened .)

[Psychoman]

well actually poems dont HAVE to ryhme...they just have to have rythem. but you have yet to tell me what you think is happeneing in the poem...i know because i read it about once a fuggin day lol...its sad...terrified....

[ItsMichael]

I know poems don't have to rhyme, but in my opinion they aren't half as good if they don't rhyme. No I don't have any respect for poems Give me any other forms of art, writing, ballads, art whatever and I'll love it

What I thinks happening in the poem?

I believe theres a little lakeside cottage in the middle of a forest, it's puring outside and a man and the woman are stuck inside for the night with eachother. The mans describing his love for her, though at the end it says they have nto stirred meaning yes, they've been kissing etc but they didn't have sex and I don't have a clue what thats all about.

[Psychoman]

half right but when i read it i see a man sitting in some old shitty cottage and a woman rushing in from a party, she is the guys lover and has left her husband at some party...she tries to warm him up by setting the fire place ablaze and then she removes a few articles of clothing...then she mentiones, though it does not say exactly what she says, that she wishes that they could be together forever. The crazy guy takes the hint and strangles her with her hair. it says that her cheeks were red again (blood entered her face real fast) and her head knelt over on his sholder. and her eyes were still alive looking. he sat their all night with a dead chick in his arms.

thats pretty much the jist of the poem...

[ItsMichael]

Simply horrible... I love it! Man I was way off wasn't I