Burns Poem Rhyme Scheme

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MY OWN WILD BURNS these rude wrought rhymes of thine	A
In golden worth are like the unshapely coin	B
Of some new realm yet pure as from the mine	A
And Art may well be spared with such alloy	C
As dims the bullion to improve the die	D
	-
I love the truths of Art but more indeed	E
The simplest truths of Nature and I read	F
To find her visibly enthroned on all	G
His muse hath builded like a fiery wall	G
Round national faith and patriotic pride	H
And Love and Valour both at Beauty s side	H
Yea more his outward rudeness doth impress	I
Upon me still his innate strengthiness	I
Even as imperfect features oft enhance	I
Th intrinsic power of some fine countenance	I
	-
How various too the spirit of his lyre	J
How many hued his soul s poetic fire	K
In his one Muse such qualities we find	L
Mingled as most are several in their kind	L
Mirth like a billow brightening up before	M
The blasts of Grief to die on Misery s shore	M
Humour and Scorn and Pathos with a reach	N
Above all effort each exalting each	N
Yea Terror wedding its own sense of evil	O
To mother Pity even for the Devil	O
	-
But best he moves to tears or wakes such sighs	I
As fan the vital fire in Beauty s lustrous eyes	I
Hark when the winding Nith the Afton Clyde	H
Rave downward or in gleaming quiet glide	H
How Passion s very soul keeps burning by	D
In his wild verse from every covert nigh	D
Or by the bonnie Doon or gurgling Ayr	P
What heart sweet memories like perfumes there	Q
Re breathe of bloomy joys untimely shed	F
And Love that followed the belov ed dead	F
To Heaven and then while Pity weeps aloud	R
Clad in the pale ideal of a shroud	R
Who would exchange the luxury of her woe	S
For all the pleasures that the heartless know	S
	-
But should we need relief another page	T
Shall blow the trumpet of his warlike rage	T
And vilest of the villain herd is he	U
Who to his battle dirge can listener be	U
Nor feel that he could die for Liberty	U
Or who while volleys forth the charging lay	V
Revoicing Bannockburn s all glorious day	V
From his exalted manhood then not spurns	I
Whate er is traitorous with a shout for Burns	I
	-
And now in thought I track with steps of fear	W
The noble peasant in his wild career	W
The haven of his youth is left the sea	U
Of Life is loudening all around and she	U
Who mid its perilous breakers might have stood	X
His first sweet love she is not Heaven looks bright	Y
Still and the hills laugh round him for delight	Y
But ah beneath the sun he finds no more	M
The Eden where his genius dwelt before	M
And does he wander by his native Ayr	P
The spirit of gladness hath gone up even there	Q
Up like the blithe notes of the lark when they	V
Have faded heavenward utterly away	V
The more he mixes with his kind in mirth	Z
The more he feels the homelessness of earth	Z
Till Life s lost charm seems beckoning him afar	A2
In the white beauty of each lovely star	A2
She is not only sweeter is the tone	B2
Of his wild lyre for the wild loss thus known	B2
	-
But storying thus with love his native streams	I
Thus by the life of his poetic dreams	I
Breathing suggestions that exalt and thrill	C2
Into the spirit of each warrior hill	C2
Yea lighting Scotia s universal face	I
With mental beauty and affectionate grace	I
Yet did he die the victim of excess	I
Alas even Poesy by her mute distress	I
Admits the blot nor could she save her son	D2
Her star bright Rob her love anointed one	D2
	-
Whilst yet the bard by Fortune unsubdued	Y
Had only like a wild bird of the wood	Y
Sung his own simple joys then happy being good	Y
Ere he had sounded the world s heart and spurned	Y
The soulless tone its hollowness returned	Y
His habitudes how temperate we find	Y
From a self pleasing tunefulness of mind	Y
	-
But afterwards that such a being so	S
Alive to joy and sensitive to woe	S
With all in sympathy of rich and rare	Q
Flushing his soul as in the evening air	Q
A western cloud grows grateful to the sense	I
With all the sun s unspeakable affluence	I
Of golden glory mightily endowed	Y
By genius too with motives nobly proud	Y
And full summ d wings of spiritual flame	E2
Wherewith to mount against the burning eye of Fame	E2
Yet bounded in a nutshell or but wooed	Y
By Fortune from a barren solitude	Y
Just to be stared at by her minions vain	F2
A sort of mental monster newly ta en	G2
That such a being should resort at length	H2
To whatsoever might repair the strength	H2
Of ruined Joy a moment or inspire	J
The heart of dying Hope though with fallacious fire	K
Was I believe howe er the truth appal	C2
Almost inevitably natural	C2
	-
Ah Scotia it behoved thee then to guard	Y
The worldly welfare of thy peasant bard	Y
But no thou wouldst not and thy gifted son	D2
So placed again the like career should run	D2
Again be naked left to Fortune s slurs	I
A hound like spirit in a land of curs	I
	-
But ah if such may always be the fate	Y
Of Genius native to a low estate	Y
For mercy s sake nay for the sake of Burns	I
Whose spirit methinks tow rds each poor brother yearns	I
Away the mask of kindred let us fling	I2
At once and brand it as an outcast thing	I2
Above communion with the rude by mind	Y
Exalted and yet shunned by the refined	Y
Yea let this warning in its face be hurl d	Y
As the collective verdict of the world	Y
	-
Enrich the age with beauty if you will	C2
But you must do so at your peril still	C2
The sole reward s a life long lack of bread	Y
And lastly a most desolate death bed	Y
And then some century after when the loss	I
And agony of Genius on the cross	I
Of Passion shall have spread into a tale	C2
Wherewith to spice the tavern lounger s ale	C2
Then shall your lowly grave long grass o ergrown	D2
Become a national sentiment in stone	D2
Yes then a costly monument shall grace	I
And guard it in the land a sacred place	I
	-
Oh must not Scorn have reeled with laughter yes	I
Even until shocked at her own bitterness	I
To see by Scotland such a work up piled	Y
In honour of its so neglected child	Y
Of grace and glory beautifully wild	Y
But there it stands a type at least to me	Y
Of intellectual hypocrisy	Y
Sad Poesy beholding from it turns	I
And murmurs What a monument to Burns	I
No tis a sordid scoff perpetual made	Y
A final insult to his injured Shade	Y
The thankless country that denied him bread	Y
Now gives this stone for he is safely dead	Y

Charles Harpur

Burns Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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