Too Late Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBC CCDEE FF GGH HIIJJ KKGGF FLLMM NNOOP P

HOPE What hope you say there is hope for the long lost oneA
Hope when the light is out hope when the oil is doneA
Hope No no good lady no hope for me at leastB
No home for me but the clammy grave when life has ceasedB
Hope Well there might have been hope had my mother lived but thenC
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God struck her dead and I was left alone among menC
God knows how I loved her and shall I never see her againC
Is there no glimpse of heaven for those who are doomed to painD
Oh cannot she come and kiss me Oh cannot she pray by my sideE
As she did long ago on that terrible evening before she diedE
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If she prayed God would hear her and perhaps but noF
I'm too old a sinner for mercy there is nothing for me but woeF
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You say that I yet could be saved if I sorrowed for my sinG
That the Lord is at heaven's gate to take poor sinners inG
God knows that I hate my sin but I feel that it cannot beH
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I've so often forsaken Him that He must have forsaken meH
Nay don't offer a prayer for me lady it's only mocking at GodI
Who knows but my tired heart still may rest beneath the sodI
For I always loved the sunny fields and the sweet sweet flowersJ
And longed to be pure once again like them in my better hoursJ
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But after I first had fallen the devil opened my eyesK
And I saw that the world knew my shame and I hadn't the heart to riseK
So I gave up trying to be good and sank down lower in sinG
Tho' the thought of poor dead mother made me always hate it withinG
Oh many's the night that I've wandered about thro' rain and snowF
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Wandered about in the street and didn't know where had to goF
And I've often crept to the river and looked at it still and blackL
And thought how every one spurned me but something held me backL
I remember how once when I stopped half dead one rainy dayM
To rest on his steps for a moment the servants drove me awayM
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Drove me away like a dog from the door of the man for whomN
O God I had given up all in this world and beyond the tombN
But don't weep at my story good lady I'm not worth it living or deadO
Ha ha I'm not frightened of Death nor the devils that dance round my bedO
There cannot be any hell deeper nor fuller of devils and strifeP
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Than the hell that burns in my heart and the fire that eats out lifeP

Frederick George Scott



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