A Mystery Play Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BA CDCDEFGFG H IG I JG H JKLK M LNMN H IJOJ I PQMQ H IRLR L SJST H MNLN M UVLV H PJWJ I PXLP YZYZWWLWL H MA2PA2 I NLML H B2HJH C2 LLND2E2F2LJCF2LC I WYIYI I G2H2A2WWA2 I WH2I2II L VTVTLLVJ2J2K2K2L2L2V V LVLVCCLCL

CHARACTERSA
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The Father The Child Death AngelsB
Two TravellersA
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The even settles still and deepC
In the cold sky the last gold burnsD
Across the colour snow flakes creepC
Each one from grey to glory turnsD
Then flutters into nothingnessE
The frost down falls with mighty stressF
Through the swift cloud that parts on highG
The great stars shrivel into lessF
In the hard depth of the iron skyG
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The ChildH
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What is that light dear fatherI
That light in the dark dark skyG
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The FatherI
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Those are the lights of the cityJ
And the villages therebyG
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The ChildH
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There must be fire in the cityJ
To throw that yellow glareK
And fire in the little villagesL
On all the hearthstones thereK
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The Father musingM
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Yea flames are on the hearthstonesL
The ovens are full of breadN
But here the coals are dyingM
And the flames are deadN
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The ChildH
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What is the cold dear fatherI
It stings like an angry beeJ
Wherever it stings my hand turns whiteO
SeeJ
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The FatherI
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The cold is a beast my dear oneP
With his paws he tears at the thatchQ
His breath is a curse and a warningM
You can see it creep on the latchQ
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The ChildH
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If 'tis a wolf dear fatherI
That lies with his paw on the floorR
Let us heat the spade in the embersL
And drive him away from the doorR
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AngelsL
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God is the power of growthS
In the snail and the treeJ
God is the power of growthS
In the heart of the manT
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The ChildH
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Did you not hear the singingM
Voices overheadN
Mother's voice and Ruth's voiceL
Voices of the deadN
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The Father musingM
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Our Ruth died in the springtimeU
With the spade I turned the sodV
We buried her by the brier roseL
Her life is hid with GodV
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The ChildH
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All summer long in the gardenP
No roses came to the treeJ
Father was it for sorrowW
Sorrow for thee and meJ
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The FatherI
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Roses grew in the gardenP
I saw them at morning and evenX
Shadows of earthly rosesL
They bloomed for fingers in heavenP
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The air is very clear and stillY
The moonlight falls from half the sphereZ
The shadow from the silver hillY
Fills half the vale and half is clearZ
As the moon's self with cloudless snowW
By the dead stream the alders throwW
Their shadows shot with tingling sparsL
On the sheer height the elm trees glowW
Their tops are tangled with the starsL
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The ChildH
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Father the coals are dyingM
See I have heated the spadeA2
Let me throw the door wide openP
I will not be afraidA2
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The FatherI
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Let me kiss you once on the foreheadN
And once on your darling eyesL
We may see them both at the dawningM
In the dales of ParadiseL
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The ChildH
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And if I only see themB2
I will tell them how you smiledH
For the wolf you know is angryJ
And I am a little childH
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DeathC2
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Undaunted spiritsL
I give thee peaceL
For a world of dreadN
CalmD2
For desperate toilE2
RestF2
Thou who didst sayL
When the waters of povertyJ
Waxed deep deepC
What we bear is bestF2
Just onesL
I give thee sleepC
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First TravellerI
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Keep up your spirits I knowW
There's a cabin under the hillY
The fellow will make a roaring fireI
We'll heat our hands and drink our fillY
And go warm to our heart's desireI
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Second TravellerI
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The door is open HeighoG2
This pair will claim neither crown nor groatH2
The man has gripped his garden spadeA2
As if he would dig his grave in the snowW
The boy has the face of a saint I trowW
His brow says I was not afraidA2
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First TravellerI
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Ah well these things must be you knowW
Gather your sables around your throatH2
Give us that story about the monkI2
His niece and the wandering conjurerI
Just to keep our blood astirI
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The AngelsL
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The heart of GodV
The worlds and manT
Are fashioned and mouldedV
In a subtle planT
Passion outsurgesL
Sweeps far but convergesL
Nothing is lostV
Sod or stoneJ2
But comes to its ownJ2
Bear well thy joyK2
'Tis mixed with alloyK2
Bear well thy griefL2
'Tis a rich full sheafL2
Gather the souls that have passed in the nightV
Theirs is the peace and the lightV
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The moon is gone the dawning bringsL
A deeper dark with silver blentV
Above the wells where myriad springsL
Light from the crimson orientV
The elms are born the shadows creepC
Tremble and melt away one sweepC
The great soft color floods and flowsL
Where under snow the roses sleepC
The morn has turned the snow to roseL

Duncan Campbell Scott



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