A beadsman is not, in fact, a man made of beads good guess. He's a pensioner read: retiree who gets paid to say prayers for his benefactor. After all, really, who has time to say their own prayers these days? The speaker uses a simile to compare his "frosted breath" to incense from a censer , which would be used in a Catholic mass service.
The steam of his breath in the chill is loaded with prayers, going straight up to heaven "without a death. A word about form here: as you can tell with just a glance, this poem is made up of a bunch of stanzas of the same length. Specifically, they're Spenserian stanzas; named after, you guessed it, a dude named Spenser Edmund Spencer to be precise.
To get the full low-down on Spenserian stanzas and the jazzy stuff they're doing in this poem, head on over to " Form and Meter. Tired of ads? Join today and never see them again.
Keats deliberately emphasizes the bitterly cold weather of St. Agnes' Eve so that ultimately the delightful warmth of happy love is emphasized. The owl, the hare, and the sheep are all affected by the cold although all three are particularly well protected by nature against it: "The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.
Age is contrasted with youth; the poverty and self-denial of the Beadsman are contrasted with the richness of the feast that Porphyro prepares for Madeline. All the senses are appealed to at one time or another throughout the course of the poem, but, as in most poems, it is the sense of sight that is chiefly appealed to.
The most striking example of Keats' appeal to the sense of sight is to be found in his description of the stained glass window in Madeline's room. Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: — Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Keats put a stained glass window in Madeline's room in order to glorify her and put her firmly at the center of his story. The concluding stanza of the poem raises a problem. Why does Keats have Angela, who had helped Porphyro and Madeline achieve a happy issue to their love, and the Beadsman, who had nothing to do with it, die at the end of the story? Their death does not come as a total surprise, for earlier in the poem Keats implied that both might die soon.
Possibly Keats, looking beyond the end of his story, saw that Angela would be punished for not reporting the presence of Porphyro in the castle and for helping him. Death removes her from the reach of punishment. Keats may have used the death of the Beadsman, to whom he had devoted two and a half stanzas at the beginning of the poem, to close off his story.
And so the Beadsman "For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold. Previous "When I Have Fears". Next "La Belle Dame sans Merci" original version. Removing book from your Reading List will also remove any bookmarked pages associated with this title. Are you sure you want to remove bookConfirmation and any corresponding bookmarks? My Preferences My Reading List. Agnes' Eve, Young virgins might have visions of delight, And soft adorings from their loves receive Upon the honey'd middle of the night, If ceremonies due they did aright; As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: The music, yearning like a God in pain, She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine, Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train Pass by—she heeded not at all: in vain Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, And back retir'd, not cool'd by high disdain; But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere: She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year.
She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes, Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short: The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort Of whisperers in anger, or in sport; 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, Hoodwink'd with faery fancy; all amort, Save to St.
Agnes and her lambs unshorn, And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. So, purposing each moment to retire, She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire For Madeline.
Beside the portal doors, Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores All saints to give him sight of Madeline, But for one moment in the tedious hours, That he might gaze and worship all unseen; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss—in sooth such things have been. He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel: For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Whose very dogs would execrations howl Against his lineage: not one breast affords Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
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