One Struggle More, And I Am Free Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABACDEFE GHGIJDKD LMNMOPOP QRQRSTST UVU TWTX YSYSAPAP SZSZA2UB2U

One struggle more and I am freeA
From pangs that rend my heart in twainB
One last long sigh to love and theeA
Then back to busy life againC
It suits me well to mingle nowD
With things that never pleased beforeE
Though every joy is fled belowF
What future grief can touch me moreE
-
Then bring me wine the banquet bringG
Man was not form'd to live aloneH
I'll be that light unmeaning thingG
That smiles with all and weeps with noneI
It was not thus in days more dearJ
It never would have been but thouD
Hast fled and left me lonely hereK
Thou'rt nothing all are nothing nowD
-
In vain my lyre would lightly breatheL
The smile that sorrow fain would wearM
But mocks the woe that lurks beneathN
Like roses o'er a sepulchreM
Though gay companions o'er the bowlO
Dispel awhile the sense of illP
Though pleasure fires the maddening soulO
The heart the heart is lonely stillP
-
On many a lone and lovely nightQ
It sooth'd to gaze upon the skyR
For then I deem'd the heavenly lightQ
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eyeR
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noonS
When sailing o'er the gean waveT
'Now Thyrza gazes on that moon'S
Alas it gleam'd upon her graveT
-
When stretch'd on fever's sleepless bedU
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veinsV
'Tis comfort still ' I faintly saidU
'That Thyrza cannot know my pains '-
Like freedom to the time worn slaveT
A boon 'tis idle then to giveW
Relenting Nature vainly gaveT
My life when Thyrza ceased to liveX
-
My Thyrza's pledge in better daysY
When love and life alike were newS
How different now thou meet'st my gazeY
How tinged by time with sorrow's hueS
The heart that gave itself with theeA
Is silent ah were mine as stillP
Though cold as e'en the dead can beA
It feels it sickens with the chillP
-
Thou bitter pledge thou mournful tokenS
Though painful welcome to my breastZ
Still still preserve that love unbrokenS
Or break the heart to which thou'rt press'dZ
Time tempers love but not removesA2
More hallow'd when its hope is fledU
Oh what are thousand living lovesB2
To that which cannot quit the deadU

George Gordon Byron



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