A Funeral Elogy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEFFGHAAIJAAAF CCKKIFAAKKAALLMNOOPP QQKKRSBBTTKKUVFFKKWX FFFFYYBYAAEEAAZZA2A2 TTTTB2B2HHC2C2D2D2E2 E2F2G2H2H2| Ask not why hearts turn Magazines of passions | A |
| And why that grief is clad in sev'ral fashions | A |
| Why She on progress goes and doth not borrow | B |
| The smallest respite from th'extreams of sorrow | B |
| Her misery is got to such an height | C |
| As makes the earth groan to support its weight | D |
| Such storms of woe so strongly have beset her | E |
| She hath no place for worse nor hope for better | E |
| Her comfort is if any for her be | F |
| That none can shew more cause of grief then she | F |
| Ask not why some in mournfull black are clad | G |
| The Sun is set there needs must be a shade | H |
| Ask not why every face a sadness shrowdes | A |
| The setting Sun ore cast us hath with Clouds | A |
| Ask not why the great glory of the Skye | I |
| That gilds the stars with heavenly Alchamy | J |
| Which all the world doth lighten with his rayes | A |
| The Persian God the Monarch of the dayes | A |
| Ask not the reason of his extasie | A |
| Paleness of late in midnoon Majesty | F |
| Why that the palefac'd Empress of the night | C |
| Disrob'd her brother of his glorious light | C |
| Did not the language of the starrs foretel | K |
| A mournfull Scene when they with tears did swell | K |
| Did not the glorious people of the Skye | I |
| Seem sensible of future misery | F |
| Did not the lowring heavens seem to express | A |
| The worlds great lose and their unhappiness | A |
| Behold how tears flow from the learned hill | K |
| How the bereaved Nine do daily fill | K |
| The bosom of the fleeting Air with groans | A |
| And wofull Accents which witness their moanes | A |
| How doe the Goddesses of verse the learned quire | L |
| Lament their rival Quill which all admire | L |
| Could Maro's Muse but hear her lively strain | M |
| He would condemn his works to fire again | N |
| Methinks I hear the Patron of the Spring | O |
| The unshorn Deity abruptly sing | O |
| Some doe for anguish weep for anger I | P |
| That Ignorance should live and Art should die | P |
| Black fatal dismal inauspicious day | Q |
| Unblest forever by Sol's precious Ray | Q |
| Be it the first of Miseries to all | K |
| Or last of Life defam'd for Funeral | K |
| When this day yearly comes let every one | R |
| Cast in their urne the black and dismal stone | S |
| Succeeding years as they their circuit goe | B |
| Leap o're this day as a sad time of woe | B |
| Farewell my Muse since thou hast left thy shrine | T |
| I am unblest in one but blest in nine | T |
| Fair Thespian Ladyes light your torches all | K |
| Attend your glory to its Funeral | K |
| To court her ashes with a learned tear | U |
| A briny sacrifice let not a smile appear | V |
| Grave Matron whoso seeks to blazon thee | F |
| Needs not make use of witts false Heraldry | F |
| Whoso should give thee all thy worth would swell | K |
| So high as 'twould turn the world infidel | K |
| Had he great Maro's Muse or Tully's tongue | W |
| Or raping numbers like the Thracian Song | X |
| In crowning of her merits he would be | F |
| Sumptuously poor low in Hyperbole | F |
| To write is easie but to write on thee | F |
| Truth would be thought to forfeit modesty | F |
| He'l seem a Poet that shall speak but true | Y |
| Hyperbole's in others are thy due | Y |
| Like a most servile flatterer he will show | B |
| Though he write truth and make the Subject You | Y |
| Virtue ne're dies time will a Poet raise | A |
| Born under better Starrs shall sing thy praise | A |
| Praise her who list yet he shall be a debtor | E |
| For Art ne're feigned nor Nature fram'd a better | E |
| Her virtues were so great that they do raise | A |
| A work to trouble fame astonish praise | A |
| When as her Name doth but salute the ear | Z |
| Men think that they perfections abstract hear | Z |
| Her breast was a brave Pallace a Broad street | A2 |
| Where all heroick ample thoughts did meet | A2 |
| Where nature such a Tenement had tane | T |
| That others souls to hers dwelt in a lane | T |
| Beneath her feet pale envy bites her chain | T |
| And poison Malice whetts her sting in vain | T |
| Let every Laurel every Myrtel bough | B2 |
| Be stript for leaves t'adorn and load her brow | B2 |
| Victorious wreathes which 'cause they never fade | H |
| Wise elder times for Kings and Poets made | H |
| Let not her happy memory e're lack | C2 |
| Its worth in Fame's eternal Almanack | C2 |
| Which none shall read but straight their loss deplore | D2 |
| And blame their Fates they were not born before | D2 |
| Do not old men rejoyce their Fates did last | E2 |
| And infants too that theirs did make such hast | E2 |
| In such a welcome time to bring them forth | F2 |
| That they might be a witness to her worth | G2 |
| Who undertakes this subject to commend | H2 |
| Shall nothing find so hard as how to end | H2 |
Anne Bradstreet
(1)
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