After Sickness Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCD EEFGHHIIJJKK LMLMNONOOHOHOPOPOQOQ OLOLOOOOONO O| I nearly died I almost touched the door | A |
| That swings between forever and no more | A |
| I think I heard the awful hinges grate | B |
| Hour after hour while I did weary wait | B |
| Death's coming but alas 'twas all in vain | C |
| The door half opened and then closed again | D |
| - | |
| What were my thoughts I had but one regret | E |
| That I was doomed to live and linger yet | E |
| In this dark valley where the stream of tears | F |
| Flows and in flowing deepens thro' the years | G |
| My lips spake not my eyes were dull and dim | H |
| But thro' my heart there moved a soundless hymn | H |
| A triumph song of many chords and keys | I |
| Transcending language as the summer breeze | I |
| Which through the forest mystically floats | J |
| Transcends the reach of mortal music's notes | J |
| A song of victory a chant of bliss | K |
| Wedded to words it might have been like this | K |
| - | |
| Come death but I am fearless | L |
| I shrink not from your frown | M |
| The eyes you close are tearless | L |
| Haste strike this frail form down | M |
| Come there is no dissembling | N |
| In this last solemn hour | O |
| But you'll find my heart untrembling | N |
| Before your awful power | O |
| My lips grow pale and paler | O |
| My eyes are strangely dim | H |
| I wail not as a wailer | O |
| I sing a victor's hymn | H |
| My limbs grow cold and colder | O |
| My room is all in gloom | P |
| Bold death but I am bolder | O |
| Come lead me to my tomb | P |
| 'Tis cold and damp and dreary | O |
| 'Tis still and lone and deep | Q |
| Haste death my eyes are weary | O |
| I want to fall asleep | Q |
| - | |
| Strike quick Why dost thou tarry | O |
| Of time why such a loss | L |
| Dost fear the sign I carry | O |
| 'Tis but a simple cross | L |
| Thou wilt not strike Then hear me | O |
| Come strike in any hour | O |
| My heart shall never fear thee | O |
| Nor flinch before thy power | O |
| I'll meet thee time's dread lictor | O |
| And my wasted lips shall sing | N |
| Dread death I am the victor | O |
| Strong death where is thy sting ' | - |
| - | |
| - | |
| Milan January | O |
Abram Joseph Ryan
(1)
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About After Sickness
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