The Last Envoy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABA CCDC EFGE HHIH HHHH JKLK M HM IINI MMMM HHOH MMHM

THIS wind that through the silent woodland blowsA
O'er rippling corn and dreaming pastures goesA
Straight to the garden where the heart of springB
Faints in the heart of summer's earliest roseA
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Dimpling the meadow's grassy green and greyC
By furze that yellows all the common wayC
Gathering the gladness of the flowering broomD
And too persistent fragrance of the mayC
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Gathering whatever is of sweet and dearE
The wandering wind has passed away from hereF
Has passed to where within your garden waitsG
The concentrated sweetness of the yearE
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And in your leafed enclosure as you stoodH
Training your flowers to new beatitudeH
Ah did you guess the wind that kissed your hairI
Had kissed my forehead in this solitudeH
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Had kissed my lips and gathered there the heatH
It breathed upon your mouth my only sweetH
Had gathered from my eyes the tender thoughtH
That drooped your eyes and stirred your pulses' beatH
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You only thought the sun's caress too warmJ
That lay upon your bosom and your armK
You did not guess the wind had brought from meL
The unacknowledged fancy's fire and charmK
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You only said 'Too strong these sunlit skiesM
More dear the moments when the daylight dies '-
And then you dreamed of meetings by your gateH
In sanctity of sunset and moonriseM
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To night when he shall come and meet you thereI
To kiss your lips and hands and eyes and hairI
To light with love and hope youth's waiting shrineN
Think of my love and my assured despairI
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To night the wind will rob the languid flowersM
Of secret scents kept close through daylit hoursM
It will blow coolly over dewy lawnsM
Where the laburnums fall in silent showersM
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I too shall learn a secret then shall wrestH
Life's hidden things from out her languorous breastH
Shall learn the way that leads away from lifeO
Into the land where nothing lives but restH
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You will not know that the cold air you prizeM
After the stormy sweetness of his sighsM
Is cold from blowing through a moonlit woodH
Over the hollow where a dead man liesM

Edith Nesbit



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