My Book
Before I drink myself to death,
God, let me finish up my Book!
At night, I fear, I fight for breath,
And wake up whiter than a spook;
And crawl off to a bistro near,
And drink until my brain is clear.
Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength
To write and write; and so I spend
Day after day, until at length
With joy and pain I'll write The End:
Then let this carcase rot; I give
The world my Book -- my Book will live.
For every line is tense with truth,
There's hope and joy on every page;
A cheer, a clarion call to Youth,
A hymn, a comforter to Age:
All's there that I was meant to be,
My part divine, the God in me.
It's of my life the golden sum;
Ah! who that reads this Book of mine,
In stormy centuries to come,
Will dream I rooted with the swine?
Behold! I give mankind my best:
What does it matter, all the rest?
It's this that makes sublime my day;
It's this that makes me struggle on.
Oh, let them mock my mortal clay,
My spirit's deathless as the dawn;
Oh, let them shudder as they look . . .
I'll be immortal in my Book.
And so beside the sullen Seine
I fight with dogs for filthy food,
Yet know that from my sin and pain
Will soar serene a Something Good;
Exultantly from shame and wrong
A Right, a Glory and a Song.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:17 min read
- 117 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABAXCC DEDEFF GHGHII JKJKLL MNMNBB IXXXOO |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,203 |
Words | 250 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
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"My Book" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Nov. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/32263/my-book>.
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