A Reply to a Letter
O nonsense, parson--tell me not they thriveAnd jubilate who follow your dictation.The good are the unhappiest lot alive--I know they are from careful observation.If freedom from the terrors of damnationLengthens the visage like a telescope,And lacrymation is a sign of hope,Then I'll continue, in my dreadful plight,To tread the dusky paths of sin, and gropeContentedly without your lantern's light;And though in many a bog beslubbered quite,Refuse to flay me with ecclesiastic soap.
You say 'tis a sad world, seeing I'm condemned,With many a million others of my kidney.Each continent's Hammed, Japheted and ShemmedWith sinners--worldlings like Sir Philip SidneyAnd scoffers like Voltaire, who thought it blissTo simulate respect for Genesis--Who bent the mental knee as if in prayer,But mocked at Moses underneath his hair,And like an angry gander bowed his head to hiss.
Seeing such as these, who die without contrition,Must go to--beg your pardon, sir--perdition,The sons of light, you tell me, can't be gay,But count it sin of the sort called omissionThe groan to smother or the tear to stayOr fail to--what is that they live by?--pray.So down they flop, and the whole serious race isPut by divine compassion on a praying basis.
Well, if you take it so to heart, while yetOur own hearts are so light with nature's leaven,You'll weep indeed when we in Hades sweat,And you look down upon us out of Heaven.In fancy, lo! I see your wailing shadesThronging the crystal battlements. CascadesOf tears spring singing from each golden spout,Run roaring from the verge with hoarser sound,Dash downward through the glimmering profound,Quench the tormenting flame and put the Devil out!
Presumptuous ass! to you no power belongsTo pitchfork me to Heaven upon the prongsOf a bad pen, whose disobedient sputter,With less of ink than incoherence fraughtBefits the folly that it tries to utter.Brains, I observe, as well as tongues, can stutter:You suffer from impediment of thought.
When next you "point the way to Heaven," take care:Your fingers all being thumbs, point, Heaven knows where!Farewell, poor dunce! your letter though I blame,Bears witness how my anger I can tame:I've called you everything except your hateful name!
Words in this poem 18
- jubilate n.
- The third Sunday after Easter; -- so called because the introit is the 66th Psalm, which, in the Latin version, begins with the words, [L., imperat. of jubilare to shout for joy.]
- dictation n.
- The act of dictating; the act or practice of prescribing; also that which is dictated. [L. dictatio.]
- damnation n.
- The state of being damned; condemnation; openly expressed disapprobation. [F. damnation, L. damnatio, fr. damnare. See Damn.]
- visage n.
- The face, countenance, or look of a person or an animal; -- chiefly applied to the human face. [F. visage, from L. visus a seeing, a look, fr. videre, visum, to see. See Vision.]
- dreadful a.
- Full of dread or terror; fearful.
- plight v. t.
- To weave; to braid; to fold; to plait. [OE. pliten; probably through Old French, fr. LL. plectare, L. plectere. See Plait, Ply.]
- simulate a.
- Feigned; pretended. Bale. [L. simulatus, p. p. of simulare to simulate; akin to simul at the same time, together, similis like. See Similar, and cf. Dissemble, Semblance.]
- angry a.
- Troublesome; vexatious; rigorous. [See Anger.]
- gander n.
- The male of any species of goose. [AS. gandra, ganra, akin to Prov. G. gander, ganter, and E. goose, gannet. See Goose.]
- contrition n.
- The act of grinding or ribbing to powder; attrition; friction; rubbing. [F. contrition, L. contritio.]
- perdition n.
- Entire loss; utter destruction; ruin; esp., the utter loss of the soul, or of final happiness in a future state; future misery or eternal death. [F., fr. L. perditio, fr. perdere, perditum, to ruin, to lose; per (cf. Skr. para away) + -dere (only in comp.) to put; akin to Gr. do. See Do.]
- flop v. t.
- To clap or strike, as a bird its wings, a fish its tail, etc.; to flap. [A variant of flap.]
- pitchfork n.
- A fork, or farming utensil, used in pitching hay, sheaves of grain, or the like.
- sputter v. i.
- To spit, or to emit saliva from the mouth in small, scattered portions, as in rapid speaking. [From the root of spout or spit to eject from the mputh. Cf. Splutter.]
- incoherence n.
- The quality or state of being incoherent; want of coherence; want of cohesion or adherence. Boyle. [Cf. F. incohérence.]
- fraught n.
- A freight; a cargo. [OE.fraight, fraght; akin to Dan. fragt, Sw. frakt, D. vracht, G. fracht, cf. OHG. fr merit, reward; perh. from corresponding to E. for + The root of E. own. Cf.]
- stutter v. t.
- To hesitate or stumble in uttering words; to speak with spasmodic repetition or pauses; to stammer. [Freq. of stut, OE. stoten; probably of Dutch or Low German origin; cf. D. & LG. stotteren, G. stottern, D. stooten to push, to strike; akin to G. stossen, Icel.]
- hateful a.
- Manifesting hate or hatred; malignant; malevolent.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Reply to a Letter is in the public domain. This text is taken from Shapes of Clay (1903), Project Gutenberg ebook #12658; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Ambrose Bierce, A Reply to a Letter, in Shapes of Clay (1903), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #12658, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bierce-shapes-of-clay/a-reply-to-a-letter.html, id L28023.
Form and metre
A Reply to a Letter is 51 lines in 6 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABBCCDCDDC thriveA · dictationB · aliveA · observationB · damnationB · telescopeC · hopeC · plightD · gropeC · lightD · quiteD · soapC
- 2 ABABCCDDC condemnedA · kidneyB · shemmedA · sidneyB · blissC · genesisC · prayerD · hairD · hissC
- 3 AABABB-- contritionA · perditionA · gayB · omissionA · stayB · prayB · is · basis
- 4 ABABCCDEED yetA · leavenB · sweatA · heavenB · shadesC · cascadesC · spoutD · soundE · profoundE · outD
- 5 AABCBBC belongsA · prongsA · sputterB · fraughtC · utterB · stutterB · thoughtC
- 6 AABBB careA · whereA · blameB · tameB · nameB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| O nonsense, parson--tell me not they thrive | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| And jubilate who follow your dictation. | 11 | ·/˘˘·/˘·˘/˘ |
| The good are the unhappiest lot alive-- | 10 | ········˘/ |
| I know they are from careful observation. | 11 | ·····/˘·˘/˘ |
| If freedom from the terrors of damnation | 11 | ·/˘··/˘·˘/˘ |
| Lengthens the visage like a telescope, | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| And lacrymation is a sign of hope, | 10 | ·········· |
| Then I'll continue, in my dreadful plight, | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| To tread the dusky paths of sin, and grope | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Contentedly without your lantern's light; | 10 | ˘/˘˘···/˘· |
| And though in many a bog beslubbered quite, | 10 | ···/······ |
| Refuse to flay me with ecclesiastic soap. | 12 | ˘/····˘·˘/˘· |
| You say 'tis a sad world, seeing I'm condemned, | 10 | ······/·˘/ |
| With many a million others of my kidney. | 11 | ·/·/˘/˘··/˘ |
| Each continent's Hammed, Japheted and Shemmed | 10 | ·/˘˘······ |
| With sinners--worldlings like Sir Philip Sidney | 11 | ·/˘····/˘/˘ |
| And scoffers like Voltaire, who thought it bliss | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| To simulate respect for Genesis-- | 10 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘˘ |
| Who bent the mental knee as if in prayer, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| But mocked at Moses underneath his hair, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| And like an angry gander bowed his head to hiss. | 12 | ···/˘/˘····· |
| Seeing such as these, who die without contrition, | 11 | /·······˘/˘ |
| Must go to--beg your pardon, sir--perdition, | 11 | ·····/˘·˘/˘ |
| The sons of light, you tell me, can't be gay, | 10 | ·········· |
| But count it sin of the sort called omission | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| The groan to smother or the tear to stay | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Or fail to--what is that they live by?--pray. | 10 | ·········· |
| So down they flop, and the whole serious race is | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| Put by divine compassion on a praying basis. | 13 | ··˘/˘/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Well, if you take it so to heart, while yet | 10 | ·········· |
| Our own hearts are so light with nature's leaven, | 11 | /······/˘/˘ |
| You'll weep indeed when we in Hades sweat, | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| And you look down upon us out of Heaven. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| In fancy, lo! I see your wailing shades | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Thronging the crystal battlements. Cascades | 10 | /˘·/˘/˘˘˘/ |
| Of tears spring singing from each golden spout, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Run roaring from the verge with hoarser sound, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Dash downward through the glimmering profound, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘˘˘/ |
| Quench the tormenting flame and put the Devil out! | 11 | ··/·˘····/· |
| Presumptuous ass! to you no power belongs | 10 | ˘/˘····/˘/ |
| To pitchfork me to Heaven upon the prongs | 10 | ·/···/···· |
| Of a bad pen, whose disobedient sputter, | 11 | ······˘/˘/˘ |
| With less of ink than incoherence fraught | 10 | ·····˘˘/˘· |
| Befits the folly that it tries to utter. | 11 | ˘/·/˘····/˘ |
| Brains, I observe, as well as tongues, can stutter: | 11 | ··˘/·····/˘ |
| You suffer from impediment of thought. | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘˘·· |
| When next you "point the way to Heaven," take care: | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Your fingers all being thumbs, point, Heaven knows where! | 10 | ·/˘·/··/·· |
| Farewell, poor dunce! your letter though I blame, | 10 | ·/···/˘··· |
| Bears witness how my anger I can tame: | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| I've called you everything except your hateful name! | 12 | ···/˘····/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.