To E.s. Salomon Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBA CDDC EFFE GCCG HIIH JKKL CMMC NCCN OPPO QRRQ STTS AGGA UCCV CAAC WXXW EYYE EZZ

What Salomon such words from youA
Who call yourself a soldier WellB
The Southern brother where he fellB
Slept all your base oration throughA
-
Alike to him he cannot knowC
Your praise or blame as little harmD
Your tongue can do him as your armD
A quarter century agoC
-
The brave respect the brave The braveE
Respect the dead but you you drawF
That ancient blade the ass's jawF
And shake it o'er a hero's graveE
-
Are you not he who makes to dayG
A merchandise of old reknownC
Which he persuades this easy townC
He won in battle far awayG
-
Nay those the fallen who revileH
Have ne'er before the living stoodI
And stoutly made their battle goodI
And greeted danger with a smileH
-
What if the dead whom still you hateJ
Were wrong Are you so surely rightK
We know the issues of the fightK
The sword is but an advocateL
-
Men live and die and other menC
Arise with knowledges diverseM
What seemed a blessing seems a curseM
And Now is still at odds with ThenC
-
The years go on the old comes backN
To mock the new beneath the sunC
Is nothing new ideas runC
Recurrent in an endless trackN
-
What most we censure men as wiseO
Have reverently practiced norP
Will future wisdom fail to warP
On principles we dearly prizeO
-
We do not know we can but deemQ
And he is loyalest and bestR
Who takes the light full on his breastR
And follows it throughout the dreamQ
-
The broken light the shadows wideS
Behold the battle field displayedT
God save the vanquished from the bladeT
The victor from the victor's prideS
-
If Salomon the blessed dewA
That falls upon the Blue and GrayG
Is powerless to wash awayG
The sin of differing from youA
-
Remember how the flood of yearsU
Has rolled across the erring slainC
Remember too the cleansing rainC
Of widows' and of orphans' tearsV
-
The dead are dead let that atoneC
And though with equal hand we strewA
The blooms on saint and sinner tooA
Yet God will know to choose his ownC
-
The wretch whate'er his life and lotW
Who does not love the harmless deadX
With all his heart and all his headX
May God forgive him I shall notW
-
When Salomon you come to quaffE
The Darker Cup with meeker faceY
I loving you at last shall traceY
Upon your tomb this epitaphE
-
'Draw near ye generous and braveE
Kneel round this monument and weepZ
For one who tried in vain to keepZ
A flower from a soldier's grave '-

Ambrose Bierce



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