Wordsworth Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEEFFGG HHIIJJKKLLHHMN OOPP QQBBRRSQTTUUVVWWDDXX LLYYZZ A2A2HHB2B2C2C2

LOFTY and strenuous of sentimentA
But narrow and partial in its scope and bentB
And thence the bigot of a local setC
Of habitudes meshed round him like a netC
Hence too his intellect though large it beD
By nature hath one prime deficiencyD
Of moral difference that broad view which leadsE
The steps of thought beyond the snares of creedsE
And circles of opinion whether theyF
Be of the Old Time or of yesterdayF
Hence too his narrow bias I suspectG
Even in poesy to attempt a sectG
-
Still as a Poet he is great and rareH
A King of Thought upon the peak of bareH
And rigid majesty for power immenseI
Enthroned for ever And in spirit thenceI
Thence let him waft us on a white wing d dreamJ
Within the murmur of some profluent streamJ
And there just whither a dim line of brakesK
In the remotest haze of distance shakesK
On his lone rounds let Peter Bell be seenL
Seen o er the White Doe on the herbage greenL
Heard breathing where she lies and near her thereH
The oldest seeming man that ever wore grey hairH
Then shall we find him verily a SeerM
Of Nature s myst ries simple and severeN
-
With what a plenitude of pure delightO
He triumphs on the mountain s cloudy heightO
With what a gleeful harmony of joyP
He wanders down the vale as happy as a boyP
-
How in his verse each picture pregnant phraseQ
Full to the eye some given shape conveysQ
And thus though in the jarring city pentB
Through him we reach the country and contentB
Fond Memory apprehends with gladdened eyesR
All that is richest in each wilding s dyesR
As blending with the beauty and the graceS
Of some bright advent of our happier daysQ
Hears through the sway of greenest boughs as heardT
Even then the far voice of some favourite birdT
The murmurous industry of bees the lowU
Responsive throbs of Echo throbbing slowU
Out of some lonely dell as to the treadV
Of our own feet in days for ever fledV
Then of some brook that gushes in his linesW
Glad Fancy drinks or on the bank reclinesW
While of far cloud grey rock and ancient treeD
The dusky shadows on the page we seeD
Yea the air sweetens as the spells prevailX
And our locks seem to wave as in a mountain galeX
-
Still there remains to tell the charm sereneL
Wherewith this Bard most sanctifies the sceneL
Tis that with eyes of love he s quick to findY
In all its forms meet ministers of MindY
And that with the rare wealth of his own heartZ
As with a golden chain he interlinks each partZ
-
But vainly the fond spirit of youth may lookA2
For its peculiar food in Wordsworth s bookA2
Where Passion is but introduced to wearH
A vestal s tenderness demure as fairH
Not as to see it the new soul desiresB2
In all the splendour of its tragic firesB2
Or at the least in all the bright distressC2
And rosy beauty of its wilfulnessC2

Charles Harpur



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