In Memoriam-rev. J. J. Lyons Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A ABBACCDEED FAAFAAGHHG IJJKAALMML NOONMMPQRPROSH HASHANAH | A |
- | |
The golden harvest tide is here the corn | A |
Bows its proud tops beneath the reaper's hand | B |
Ripe orchards' plenteous yields enrich the land | B |
Bring the first fruits and offer them this morn | A |
With the stored sweetness of all summer hours | C |
The amber honey sucked from myriad flowers | C |
And sacrifice your best first fruits to day | D |
With fainting hearts and hands forespent with toil | E |
Offer the mellow harvest's splendid spoil | E |
To Him who gives and Him who takes away | D |
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Bring timbrels bring the harp of sweet accord | F |
And in a pleasant psalm your voice attune | A |
And blow the cornet greeting the new moon | A |
Sing holy holy holy is the Lord | F |
Who killeth and who quickeneth again | A |
Who woundeth and who healeth mortal pain | A |
Whose hand afflicts us and who sends us peace | G |
Hail thou slim arc of promise in the West | H |
Thou pledge of certain plenty peace and rest | H |
With the spent year may the year's sorrows cease | G |
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For there is mourning now in Israel | I |
The crown the garland of the branching tree | J |
Is plucked and withered Ripe of years was he | J |
The priest the good old man who wrought so well | K |
Upon his chosen globe For he was one | A |
Who at his seed plot toiled through rain and sun | A |
Morn found him not as one who slumbereth | L |
Noon saw him faithful and the restful night | M |
Stole o'er him at his labors to requite | M |
The just man's service with the just man's death | L |
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What shall be said when such as he do pass | N |
Go to the hill side neath the cypress trees | O |
Fall midst that peopled silence on your knees | O |
And weep that man must wither as the grass | N |
But mourn him not whose blameless life complete | M |
Rounded its perfect orb whose sleep is sweet | M |
Whom we must follow but may not recall | P |
Salute with solemn trumpets the New Year | Q |
And offer honeyed fruits as were he here | R |
Though ye be sick with wormwood and with gall | P |
Emma Lazarus
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