Sonnets Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDDCEFFDDAAGGHH E IIJKEEIILLJJMMGGNN O EEEEHHFFEEPPFFQQ| Mors Christi | A |
| - | |
| And am I here and my Redeemer gone | B |
| Can he be dead and is not my life done | C |
| Was he tormented in excesse of measure | D |
| And doe I live yet and yet live in pleasure | D |
| Alas could sinners finde out ne'r a one | C |
| More fit than thee for them to spit upon | E |
| Did thy cheekes entertaine a traytor's lips | F |
| Was thy deare body scourg'd and tome with whips | F |
| So that the guiltlesse blood came trickling after | D |
| And did thy fainting browes sweat blood and water | D |
| Wert thou Lord hang'd upon the cursed tree | A |
| O world of griefe and was all this for me | A |
| Burst forth my teares into a world of sorrow | G |
| And let my nights of griefe finde ne'r a morrow | G |
| Since thou art dead Lord grant thy servant roome | H |
| Within his heart to build thy heart a tombe | H |
| - | |
| Mors Tna | E |
| - | |
| Can he be faire that withers at a blast | I |
| Or he be strong that ayery breath can cast | I |
| Can he be wise that knovves not how to live | J |
| Or he be rich that nothing hath to give | K |
| Can he be young that's feeble weake and wan | E |
| So faire strong wise so rich so young is man | E |
| So faire is man that death a parting blast | I |
| Blasts his faire flow'r and makes him earth at last | I |
| So strong is man that with a gasping breath | L |
| He totters and bequeathes his strength to death | L |
| So wise is man that if with death he strive | J |
| His wisdome cannot teach him how to live | J |
| So rich is man that all his debts b'ing paid | M |
| His wealth's the winding sheet wherein he's laid | M |
| So young is man that broke with care and sorrow | G |
| He's old enough to day to dye to morrow | G |
| Why bragg'st thou then thou worme of five foot long | N |
| Th' art neither faire nor strong nor wise nor rich nor yong | N |
| - | |
| Gloria Cceli | O |
| - | |
| When I behold and well advise upon | E |
| The wise man's speech There's nought beneath the sun | E |
| But vanitie my soule rebels within | E |
| And loathes the dunghill prison she is in | E |
| But when I looke to new Jerusalem | H |
| Wherein 's reserv'd my crowne my diadem | H |
| O what a heaven of blisse my soule enjoyes | F |
| On sudden wrapt into that heaven of ioyes | F |
| Where ravisht in the depth of meditation | E |
| She well discernes with eye of contemplation | E |
| The glory of God in his imperiall seat | P |
| Full strong in might in majestic compleate | P |
| Where troops of powers vertues cherubims | F |
| Angels archangel saints and seraphims | F |
| Are chaunting praises to their heavenly King | Q |
| Where Hallelujah they for ever sing | Q |
Francis Quarles
(1)
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