The Nymph Complaining For The Death Of Her Fawn Poem Rhyme Scheme

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The wanton troopers riding by	A
Have shot my fawn and it will die	A
Ungentle men they cannot thrive	B
To kill thee Thou ne'er didst alive	B
Them any harm alas nor could	C
Thy death yet do them any good	C
I'm sure I never wish'd them ill	D
Nor do I for all this nor will	D
But if my simple pray'rs may yet	E
Prevail with Heaven to forget	E
Thy murder I will join my tears	F
Rather than fail But oh my fears	G
It cannot die so Heaven's King	H
Keeps register of everything	H
And nothing may we use in vain	I
Ev'n beasts must be with justice slain	I
Else men are made their deodands	G
Though they should wash their guilty hands	G
In this warm life blood which doth part	J
From thine and wound me to the heart	J
Yet could they not be clean their stain	I
Is dyed in such a purple grain	I
There is not such another in	K
The world to offer for their sin	K
	-
Unconstant Sylvio when yet	E
I had not found him counterfeit	L
One morning I remember well	M
Tied in this silver chain and bell	M
Gave it to me nay and I know	N
What he said then I'm sure I do	O
Said he Look how your huntsman here	P
Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear	Q
But Sylvio soon had me beguil'd	R
This waxed tame while he grew wild	R
And quite regardless of my smart	J
Left me his fawn but took his heart	J
	-
Thenceforth I set myself to play	S
My solitary time away	S
With this and very well content	T
Could so mine idle life have spent	T
For it was full of sport and light	U
Of foot and heart and did invite	U
Me to its game it seem'd to bless	G
Itself in me How could I less	G
Than love it Oh I cannot be	V
Unkind t' a beast that loveth me	V
	-
Had it liv'd long I do not know	N
Whether it too might have done so	N
As Sylvio did his gifts might be	V
Perhaps as false or more than he	V
But I am sure for aught that I	A
Could in so short a time espy	V
Thy love was far more better then	W
The love of false and cruel men	W
	-
With sweetest milk and sugar first	X
I it at mine own fingers nurst	X
And as it grew so every day	X
It wax'd more white and sweet than they	X
It had so sweet a breath And oft	X
I blush'd to see its foot more soft	X
And white shall I say than my hand	X
Nay any lady's of the land	X
	-
It is a wond'rous thing how fleet	X
'Twas on those little silver feet	X
With what a pretty skipping grace	G
It oft would challenge me the race	G
And when 't had left me far away	X
'Twould stay and run again and stay	X
For it was nimbler much than hinds	G
And trod as on the four winds	G
	-
I have a garden of my own	Y
But so with roses overgrown	Y
And lilies that you would it guess	G
To be a little wilderness	G
And all the spring time of the year	Q
It only loved to be there	Z
Among the beds of lilies I	A
Have sought it oft where it should lie	A
Yet could not till itself would rise	G
Find it although before mine eyes	G
For in the flaxen lilies' shade	X
It like a bank of lilies laid	X
Upon the roses it would feed	X
Until its lips ev'n seemed to bleed	X
And then to me 'twould boldly trip	A2
And print those roses on my lip	A2
But all its chief delight was still	D
On roses thus itself to fill	D
And its pure virgin limbs to fold	X
In whitest sheets of lilies cold	X
Had it liv'd long it would have been	K
Lilies without roses within	K
	-
O help O help I see it faint	X
And die as calmly as a saint	X
See how it weeps The tears do come	B2
Sad slowly dropping like a gum	B2
So weeps the wounded balsam so	N
The holy frankincense doth flow	N
The brotherless Heliades	N
Melt in such amber tears as these	N
	-
I in a golden vial will	D
Keep these two crystal tears and fill	D
It till it do o'erflow with mine	C2
Then place it in Diana's shrine	C2
	-
Now my sweet fawn is vanish'd to	X
Whither the swans and turtles go	N
In fair Elysium to endure	D2
With milk white lambs and ermines pure	D2
O do not run too fast for I	A
Will but bespeak thy grave and die	A
	-
First my unhappy statue shall	E2
Be cut in marble and withal	E2
Let it be weeping too but there	Z
Th' engraver sure his art may spare	Z
For I so truly thee bemoan	Y
That I shall weep though I be stone	Y
Until my tears still dropping wear	Z
My breast themselves engraving there	Z
There at my feet shalt thou be laid	X
Of purest alabaster made	X
For I would have thine image be	V
White as I can though not as thee	V

Andrew Marvell

The Nymph Complaining For The Death Of Her Fawn Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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