In An Almshouse Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBBBBBCBDEFGHFIJ BKLBMBBNOBBPPB EBQBRSATNBUBVWXYZA2B B2C2D2E2BBF2B BG2HBFH2II2 FBBBBF2BQQPJ2IQK2BB L2LG2QM2BN2NO2QEBEBE BBBP2P2I2BQFFB QQEEQ2BELE BQQQQQR2S2BBT2BQEBQB R2EZFBEU2QV2 QUV2BEFW2BQBQU2QQU2E Q QLQZEBN2X2FEQQN2 BBBQEV2

Oh the dear summer evening How the airA
is mellow with the delicate breath of flowersB
and wafts of hay scent from the sunburnt swathesB
how the glad song of life comes everywhenceB
from thousand harmless voices from blithe birdsB
that twitter on incessant sweet good nightsB
from homeward bees that through the clover tuftsB
stray booming pilfering treasures to the lastC
from sleepless crickets clamouring in the grassB
to tell the world they're happy day and nightD
from the persistent rooks in their high townE
from sheep in far off meadows life life lifeF
it is the song they sing and to my mindG
the song is very happy very goodH
My God I thank thee I have known this lifeF
although I doubt not dying I shall learnI
how greater and how happier is deathJ
-
Oh beautiful and various earth of oursB
how good God made thee Ah I have lost muchK
mine is a very grey and dim earth nowL
but I can feel and hear and take in soB
the joy of present beauty to my soulM
and then I see it there O strange blurred mistsB
that mean the sky to me my twilight eyesB
discern no more than you but I see moreN
I see this gold and glowing sunset spreadO
and break the pale blue sky with flashing cloudsB
I see the shadows soften on the hillsB
and the green summits brighten one by oneP
and purple in the nightfall one by oneP
Oh seeing can be done without the eyesB
-
Are those St Mary's church bells in the townE
How far sound spreads to night St Mary's bellsB
chiming for evensong I would the wayQ
were not so over long for feeble limbsB
and that the pathway and the still canalR
had not so like a glimmer in the duskS
for I could gladly feel the peace of prayerA
among the others in the quiet churchT
with silent graves seen through the open doorN
and rustling heard of slowly stirring leavesB
And then 'tis pleasant too to hear the rhythmU
of scholars' English and of words in booksB
'tis like the voice of some rare foreign tongueV
familiar once and loved that howso heardW
takes the glad ear with sweetness of old wontX
Oh there's no sermon now so trite and crudeY
but makes for me a sort of literatureZ
'tis my one echo now from that far worldA2
where books are read and written my world onceB
I listen as one listens note by noteB2
to some great symphony one knows by heartC2
played powerlessly uncertainly with changeD2
and thinner chords to suit a learner's handE2
listening with pleasure part for what there isB
and more for what there should be and what wasB
when long ago one used to hear the strainF2
I seem to love words now because they are wordsB
-
Not that I'll call our Vicar's sermon wordsB
no no he loves his God and loves his poorG2
he makes his life one task of doing goodH
can such a man speak idly What he doesB
is proof to what he urges his week's lifeF
soul to his Sunday preachings his shown faithH2
the key to his expoundings one may learnI
from such a man more things than he can teachI2
-
Alas the busy patience of his lifeF
eager and resolute for little thingsB
strenuous on petty labours which no voiceB
shall ever herald past the parish boundsB
which maybe those who see them do not seeB
and those whose gain they are know not for gainF2
does it not twit me with my languid yearsB
drifted along expectant of a dayQ
when all my world should thank me I had wakedQ
My world ah after all a lesser oneP
than I discerned when I was of it stillJ2
my world of men who learn and teach and learnI
and then have only learned and taught and learnedQ
my world that has forgotten me a waifK2
floated away from it on too rough tidesB
left spoiled and stranded to drop piece by pieceB
-
Ah me the difference I have not knownL2
what envy means unless I know it nowL
when in my helplessness sick blind and poorG2
past all fulfilling now with nought fulfilledQ
I see our Vicar with his cheery lookM2
hurried and overladen with small caresB
glad in his work because it is his workN2
And he'll not envy me my garnered loreN
stored up for moth and mildew what to himO2
is any wisdom but to work and prayQ
the denizens of our rustic market townE
which ignorant strangers take and break our heartsB
or just a village know no T bingenE
have never heard of varying codicesB
love or love not the Christ of Luke and JohnE
and have no guess of Renan's to their mindsB
belief and unbelief are simplest thingsB
mere Yes and No and God must side with YesB
as kings must with the loyal But the loveP2
that comes of faith and faith that comes of loveP2
they can learn those of him and he can teachI2
that plain man ignorant of philosophiesB
but wise enough to do good all the dayQ
Ah why was I too weak for such a lifeF
which once I might have chosen A high lifeF
full of most blessed serviceB
-
But I thoughtQ
it was not my life meant for me by GodQ
and now I know not what I should have doneE
only I mourn that I have lived in vainE
still daily dreaming some completed taskQ2
that never was begun still waiting forceB
of impulse more than mine to waken mineE
still dimly pondering Shall I Can I HowL
and waiting to be ready to beginE
-
Ah tardy useless labourer in the fieldsB
who waits to think what weed he shall rout firstQ
ah laggard sailor who will not put outQ
till the direct fair wind sets for his portQ
And time will never linger and the worldQ
can wait for no man must have its wants fedQ
at the want's birth cry soldiers to the gapR2
on the hot instant else no need of youS2
no space for you to stand in Long long sinceB
I thought to have been somewhat to perhapsB
set some regardful honour round my nameT2
but surely to receive a destined placeB
a part among the workers for it seemedQ
to have so far uptrodden half aloneE
from peasant lowliness should prelude meB
a future as of one of whom they sayQ
so low he was to show how high he isB
Dreams dreams I never had the pith the sapR2
the strong aspiring pulses I was oneE
to think and shiver by the study fireZ
outside is the cold boisterous sea of lifeF
where I will plunge to morrow and snatch pearlsB
to wait like a late sleeper in the mornE
that with a drowsy logic lulls himselfU2
and chides his tardiness on their delayQ
who will not come to tell him it is timeV2
-
And yet I did not sleep no to my thoughtQ
I always was at school for work to comeU
but these days leave us little schooling timeV2
Long since and when the wisdom of the wiseB
was to accept to live one with to learnE
and men might find their work for half a lifeF
in thinking silent and the other halfW2
in thinking out aloud those were my daysB
I should have lived in I came out of dateQ
like a reprinted tome of theoriesB
made reasonably ere the science shapedQ
which all uncut stands on the library shelfU2
amid new essays on the daily artQ
born long since of the science and men sayQ
'Tis learned curious looks well on the shelfU2
and take its slighter useful neighbour downE
so I showed wise and useless to the worldQ
-
Wise with the oldworld wisdom grown unaptQ
to this changed morrow for the lesson nowL
is to accept to live one with to doQ
the wisest wisdom plainly in this stirZ
this over crowding this hot hurrying onE
that make a tempest of our modern daysB
This anxious age is driven half mad with workN2
it bids us all work world no need no roomX2
for contemplating sages counting lifeF
a time allowed for solving problems inE
and its own self a problem to be solvedQ
on in the rush or be swept out of sightQ
on in the rush and find your place and workN2
-
'Tis right 'tis very right not only oursB
to fit what state God gives us but what timesB
and he who is thrown out in a fierce raceB
can hardly chide the others ran too fastQ
And as for me if I grow old aloneE
hid out of memory of springtimeV2

Augusta Davies Webster



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