Porphyria's Loverrrrrrr

For your information:  Whilst writing this, I felt like arse.  Do not expect an excess of sense making.

I have issues with this.  Surely it is enough to have my poem annotations, which MENTION language, form and structure within them.
And actually, seeing as how I've forgotten the majority of how to actually do an essay on such things, I probably can't type anything useful.
How's about I copy the poem in here, and transcribe my notes up.
Good stuff.

The rain set early in tonight,         Pathetic fallacy?

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  Not walked?  Other-worldly?  Angelic?  Shutting out the cold.

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Effect she had on his life?

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,  Practically naked, makes her appears something of a "fallen woman"?  Ties in with idea of fallen angel.

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,    Image for either her encompassing his life or halo?

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,   Sex?

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 I knew    Wanted it for ages?  Now he has it he kills her?  MANIAC!

Porphyria worshiped me: surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.   Godly, omniscient image, as though he is above the world and all it contains.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,   All he wants to do is keep her?

Perfectly pure and good: I found    Angelic image again.  Ties in with hair, long and golden, like halo?

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;  Totally calm.   Enforces image of psychosis and nut-jobbery.

I am quite sure she felt no pain.    Omniscient and godlike, could also be reassuring self that did not hurt the lovely lady.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,    Worried she is still alive? Might involve repurcussions in defence.

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:   Imagining it?  Hallucinating?  Psychotic.  Metaphor for her death?

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,    Eh???

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!     God's judgement is unimportant to him. Further proof of psychosis as in this time (1840s) not being religious unheard of and awful!?

Iambic pentameter
First person narrative
Setting: False sense of security?  Reverse pathetic fallacy meaning evil coldness is actually safer than lovely warm place.  Deceptive!
Temperature imagery.
Deluded throughout poem?