Quare Fatigasti Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABACAAAC ADADAAAD EFGHEEGI JKJKJJJK GLGLEEEL MNMOPMMO PQMQMMMR GSASAAAS

Two years ago I was thinkingA
On the changes that years bring forthB
Now I stand where I then stood drinkingA
The gust and the salt sea frothC
And the shuddering wave strikes linkingA
With the waves subsiding and sinkingA
And clots the coast herbage shrinkingA
With the hue of the white cere clothC
-
Is there aught worth losing or keepingA
The bitters or sweets men quaffD
The sowing or the doubtful reapingA
The harvest of grain or chaffD
Or squandering days or heapingA
Or waking seasons or sleepingA
The laughter that dries the weepingA
Or the weeping that drowns the laughD
-
For joys wax dim and woes deadenE
We forget the sorrowful biersF
And the garlands glad that have fled inG
The merciful march of yearsH
And the sunny skies and the leadenE
And the faces that pale or reddenE
And the smiles that lovers are wed inG
Who are born and buried in tearsI
-
And the myrtle bloom turns hoaryJ
And the blush of the rose decaysK
And sodden with sweat and goryJ
Are the hard won laurels and baysK
We are neither joyous nor sorryJ
When time has ended our storyJ
And blotted out grief and gloryJ
And pain and pleasure and praiseK
-
Weigh justly throw good and bad inG
The scales will the balance veerL
With the joys or the sorrows had inG
The sum of a life's careerL
In the end spite of dreams that saddenE
The sad or the sanguine maddenE
There is nothing to grieve or gladdenE
There is nothing to hope or fearL
-
Thou hast gone astray quoth the preacherM
In the gall of thy bitternessN
Thou hast taught me in vain oh teacherM
I neither blame thee nor blessO
If bitter is sure and sweet sureP
These vanish with form and featureM
Can the creature fathom the creatureM
Whose Creator is fathomlessO
-
Is this dry land sure Is the sea sureP
Is there aught that shall long remainQ
Pain or peril or pleasureM
Pleasure or peril or painQ
Shall we labour or take our leisureM
And who shall inherit treasureM
If the measure with which we measureM
Is meted to us againR
-
I am slow in learning and swift inG
Forgetting and I have grownS
So weary with long sand siftingA
T'wards the mist where the breakers moanS
The rudderless bark is driftingA
Through the shoals and the quicksands shiftingA
In the end shall the night rack liftingA
Discover the shores unknownS

Adam Lindsay Gordon



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