Wordsworth At Dove Cottage Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCCB DEDEFFE GHGHIIH JKLKMMK NONONNO NNNNPPN QRQRSSR TUTUNNU ININTTN NVNVNNV NWNWIIX YZYZA2A2Z

Wise Wordsworth to avert your kenA
From half of human fateB
What is there in the ways of menA
Their struggles or their stateB
To make the calm recluse forswearC
The garden path the fire side chairC
To journey with the GreatB
-
The narrowest hamlet lends the heartD
A realm as rich and wideE
As kingdoms do to play its partD
Who reaps not that hath triedE
More rapture from the wayside flowerF
Than all the stairs and robes of powerF
And avenues of prideE
-
Whether we scan it from belowG
Or bask in it aboveH
We weary of life's glittering showG
We tire of all save LoveH
As when fatigued with wood notes shrillI
We listen with contentment stillI
To cooings of the doveH
-
In this low cottage nested nearJ
Mountain and lake you dweltK
'Twas here you tilled the ground 'twas hereL
You loved and wrote and kneltK
Hence wheresoe'er your kindred dwellM
Your songs sincere our hearts compelM
To feel the thing you feltK
-
Glory there is that lives entombedN
In spacious soaring shrineO
A tenement more narrow roomedN
Sufficient is for thineO
A homely temple haply foundN
Where peasants toil and streamlets soundN
Adorned not but divineO
-
Your sacred music still is heardN
When notes profane have diedN
Like some familiar home bred wordN
You in our lives abideN
And when with trackless feet we roveP
By meadow mountain mere or groveP
We feel you at our sideN
-
Thrice happy bard who found at homeQ
All joys that needful beR
Whose longings were not forced to roamQ
Beyond your household ThreeR
Your own proud genius steadfast calmS
A wife whose faith was household balmS
And heavenly DorothyR
-
What is it sweetens tasteless FameT
Makes shadowy Glory blissU
What is the guerdon poets claimT
What should it be but thisU
A heart attuned to understandN
A listening ear a loving handN
A smile a tear a kissU
-
Leave them but these and let who willI
Crave plaudits from the crowdN
Its vapid incense aves shrillI
And favour of the proudN
The sweetest minister of FameT
Is she who broods upon one's nameT
But calls it not aloudN
-
And this at least in full you hadN
From sister and from wifeV
They made your gravest moments gladN
They havened you from strifeV
Hallowed your verse revered your treadN
Maintained a nimbus round your headN
And deified your lifeV
-
Hence long as gentle brows shall bendN
Over your rustic pageW
Their pious love shall still befriendN
The poet and the sageW
For when we cross your cottage sillI
Virtue no less than Genius willI
Invite the PilgrimageX
-
The tallest tower that ever roseY
Hath but a span to soarZ
Palace and fane are passing showsY
But Time will be no moreZ
When Wordsworth's home no longer leadsA2
Men's far off feet to Grasmere's meadsA2
And sanctifies its shoreZ

Alfred Austin



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