Poet Edith Wharton

Edith Wharton

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A Torchbearer Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHI JKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYO ZA2B2C2D2CE2F2G2H2I2 J2K2T VL2M2NN2O2P2TQ2R2L2S 2A2

Great cities rise and have their fall the brassA
That held their glories moulders in its turnB
Hard granite rots like an uprooted weedC
And ever on the palimpsest of earthD
Impatient Time rubs out the word he writE
But one thing makes the years its pedestalF
Springs from the ashes of its pyre and clapsG
A skyward wing above its epitaphH
The will of man willing immortal thingsI
-
The ages are but baubles hung uponJ
The thread of some strong lives and one slight wristK
May lift a century above the dustL
For TimeM
The Sisyphean load of little livesN
Becomes the globe and sceptre of the greatO
But who are these that linking hand in handP
Transmit across the twilight waste of yearsQ
The flying brightness of a kindled hourR
Not always nor alone the lives that searchS
How they may snatch a glory out of heavenT
Or add a height to Babel oftener theyU
That in the still fulfilment of each day'sV
Pacific order hold great deeds in leashW
That in the sober sheath of tranquil tasksX
Hide the attempered blade of high empriseY
And leap like lightning to the clap of fateO
-
So greatly gave he nurturing 'gainst the callZ
Of one rare moment all the daily storeA2
Of joy distilled from the acquitted taskB2
And that deliberate rashness which bespeaksC2
The pondered action passed into the bloodD2
So swift to harden purpose into deedC
That with the wind of ruin in his hairE2
Soul sprang full statured from the broken fleshF2
And at one stroke he lived the whole of lifeG2
Poured all in one libation to the truthH2
A brimming flood whose drops shall overflowI2
On deserts of the soul long beaten downJ2
By the brute hoof of habit till they springK2
In manifold upheaval to the sunT
-
Call here no high artificer to raiseV
His wordy monument such lives as theseL2
Make death a dull misnomer and its pompM2
An empty vesture Let resounding livesN
Re echo splendidly through high piled vaultsN2
And make the grave their spokesman such as heO2
Are as the hidden streams that undergroundP2
Sweeten the pastures for the grazing kineT
Or as spring airs that bring through prison barsQ2
The scent of freedom or a light that burnsR2
Immutably across the shaken seasL2
Forevermore by nameless hands renewedS2
Where else were darkness and a glutted shoreA2

Edith Wharton



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