The Old Manor House Poem Rhyme Scheme

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 8 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Wonderful Women
by Umaru Kanneh Boima
Freedom To Scratch In Peace
by Olute Aete
Happy New Year
by Felix Menda
Human Beings
by Dana Graslie
Lust
by Wisdom Greatness
An Isolated Tree's Song
by Sayeed Abubakar
A Strange Boy
by Sayeed Abubakar
O Soil
by Sayeed Abubakar
No War, No War-monger
by Sayeed Abubakar
Night's Town
by Sayeed Abubakar

Popular Poets

1. Emily Dickinson(2414 poems)
2. Madison Julius Cawein(1231 poems)
3. Ella Wheeler Wilcox(1136 poems)
4. William Wordsworth(1016 poems)
5. Robert Burns(986 poems)
6. Edgar Albert Guest(945 poems)
7. Thomas Moore(849 poems)
8. Robert Service(831 poems)

AN old house crumbling half away all barnacled and lichen grown	A
Of saddest mellowest softest grey with a grand history of its own	A
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years	B
	-
Such delicate tender russet tones of colour on its gables slept	C
With streaks of gold betwixt the stones where wind sown flowers and mosses crept	C
Wild grasses waved in sun and shade o'er terrace slab and balustrade	C
	-
Around the clustered chimneys clung the ivy's wreathed and braided threads	D
And dappled lights and shadows flung across the sombre browns and reds	D
Where'er the graver's hand had been it spread its tendrils bright and green	E
	-
Far stretching branches shadowed deep the blazoned windows and broad eaves	F
And rocked the faithful rooks asleep and strewed the terraces with leaves	F
A broken dial marked the hours amid damp lawns and garden bowers	G
	-
An old house silent sad forlorn yet proud and stately to the last	C
Of all its power and splendour shorn but rich with memories of the past	C
And pitying from its own decay the gilded piles of yesterday	C
	-
Pitying the new race that passed by with slighting note of its grey walls	H
And entertaining tenderly the shades of dead knights in its halls	H
Whose blood that soaked these hallowed sods came down from Scandinavian gods	I
	-
I saw it first in summer time The warm air hummed and buzzed with bees	J
Where now the pale green hop vines climb about the sere trunks of the trees	J
And waves of roses on the ground scented the tangled glades around	C
	-
Some long fern plumes drooped there below the heaven above was still and blue	K
Just here between the gloom and glow a cedar and an aged yew	K
Parted their dusky arms to let the glory fall on Margaret	C
	-
She leaned on that old balustrade her white dress tinged with golden air	L
Her small hands loosely clasped and laid amongst the moss and maidenhair	L
I watched her hearing as I stood a turtle cooing in the wood	C
	-
Hearing a mavis far away piping his dreamy interludes	M
While gusts of soft wind sweet with hay swept through those garden solitudes	M
And thinking she was lovelier e'en than my young ideal love had been	N
	-
Tall with that subtle sensitive grace which made so plainly manifest	C
That she was born of noble race a cool hushed presence bringing rest	C
Of one who felt and understood the dignity of womanhood	C
	-
Tall with a slow proud step and air with skin half marble and half milk	O
With twisted coils of raven hair blue tinged and fine and soft as silk	O
With haughty clear cut chin and cheek and broad brows exquisitely Greek	P
	-
With still calm mouth whose dreamy smile possessed me like a haunting pain	Q
So rare so sweet so free from guile with that slight accent of disdain	Q
With level liquid tones that fell like chimings of a vesper bell	R
	-
With large grave stag eyes soft yet keen with slumbering passion hazel brown	S
Long lashed and dark whose limpid sheen my thirsty spirit swallowed down	S
O poor pale words wherewith to paint my queen my goddess and my saint	C
	-
You see that oriel ivy grown with the blurred sculpture underneath	T
Her sweet head like the Clytie's own with a white stephanotis wreath	T
Inwoven with its coiling hair first bent to me in greeting there	L
	-
I shall remember till I die that night when we were introduced	C
The great Sir Hildebrand stood by her cousin scowling as he used	C
To scowl if e'en a poor dumb cur ventured to lift his eyes to her	L
	-
I cared not Well I knew her grace was not for him I watched them dance	M
And knew it by her locked up face and her slow haughty utterance	M
I knew he chafed and raged to see how kind and sweet she was to me	U
	-
O dear old window nevermore the red and purple lights that stray	L
Through your dim panes upon the floor on sunny summer night will lay	L
Soft rainbows on her glossy hair and the white dress she used to wear	L
	-
Those panes the ivy used to scratch I hear it now when I'm alone	A
A pair of martlets used to hatch their young ones in the sculptured stone	A
Those warm slabs were the bloodhound's bed with fine yew needles carpeted	C
	-
The missel thrushes used to search there for the berries as they fell	R
On that high twig at morn would perch a shy and shivering locustelle	R
From yon low sweep of furzy brake we used to watch it thrill and shake	V
	-
The banksia roses twined a wreath all round that ancient coat and crest	C
And trailed the time worn steps beneath and almost touched the martin's nest	C
The honey bees swam in and out and little lizards flashed about	C
	-
And when we flung the casement wide the wind would play about her brow	L
As she sat etching by my side I see the bright locks lifted now	L
And such a view would meet our eyes of crimson woods and azure skies	M
	-
'Twas there when fell the twilight hush I used to feed her wistful ears	M
And make her cheek and forehead flush and her dark eyes fill full of tears	M
With tales of my wild fighting life our bitter brave Crimean strife	W
	-
We had too little concerts in that dear recess I used to play	R
Accompaniments on my violin and she would sing Old Robin Gray	R
And simple tender Scottish songs of loyal love and royal wrongs	M
	-
My violin is dead for me the dust lies thick upon the case	M
And she is dead yet I can see e'en now the rapt and listening face	M
And all about the garden floats the echo of those crying notes	M
'Tis a sweet garden is it not So wild and tangled nothing prim	X
No quaint cut bed no shaven plot no stunted bushes stiff and trim	X
Its flowers and shrubs all overblown its long paths moss and lichen grown	A
	-
'Twas on that terrace that we read the Idylls sauntering up and down	S
With gentle musing measured tread while leaves kept falling gold and brown	S
And mists kept rising silver grey one still and peaceful autumn day	R
	-
In those long glades we roamed apart and studied Spanish and the tales	M
Of Chaucer there we talked of art and listened to the nightingales	M
E'en now when summer daylight dies I hear their bubbling melodies	M
	-
You see that bower half hidden made by the low branching willow tree	U
We used to lounge there in the shade and laugh and gossip and drink tea	U
I wreathed her head with ferns one night and little rose buds sweet and white	C
	-
It grew my habit by and by to gather all the flowers she wore	L
She used to take them silently or I would leave them at her door	L
And wait about till she was drest to see them nestling on her breast	C
	-
In that green nook she used to sit and I would watch her as she worked	C
Her face had such a spell in it and such a subtle glamour lurked	C
In even the motion of her hand why I could never understand	C
	-
'Twas there I tied the little strap that held her netting down one day	R
And kissed the soft palm in her lap which she so gently drew away	R
Ay me we held our tongues for hours and I plucked off and ate the flowers	M
	-
She would not look at me at first I recollect it all so well	R
Her delicate downcast features erst so pale were tinted like a shell	R
Then like the petals that enclose the inmost heart of a moss rose	M
	-
The others came and chatted round but we could laugh and chat no more	L
I propped my elbow on the ground and watched her count her stitches o'er	L
Their talk I did not comprehend she was too busy to attend	C
	-
The days passed on and still we sat in our old place but things were changed	C
We were so silent after that so oddly formal so estranged	C
No more we met to worship art our little pathways branched apart	C
	-
All day I kept her face in view scarce one low tone I failed to hear	L
And though she would not see I knew she felt when I was far or near	L
Yet brief and seldom was the chance that gave me word or smile or glance	M
	-
One night I came home in the gloom The other guests were mostly gone	Y
A light was burni	Y

Ada Cambridge

The Old Manor House Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Write your comment about The Old Manor House poem by Ada Cambridge

Recent Interactions*

New Poems

Popular Poets