Stanzas Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AAABAAABCCCCDDC EEEFAAAFAAACAAC DDDDGGGDCCCDHHD AAAICCCICCCJKKJ DDDLEEMLNOOPQQP RSSDCCCDTTTSAAS

Could Love for everA
Run like a riverA
And Time's endeavourA
Be tried in vainB
No other pleasureA
With this could measureA
And like a treasureA
We'd hug the chainB
But since our sighingC
Ends not in dyingC
And form 'd for flyingC
Love plumes his wingC
Then for this reasonD
Let's love a seasonD
But let that season be only SpringC
-
When lovers partedE
Feel broken heartedE
And all hopes thwartedE
Expect to dieF
A few years olderA
Ah how much colderA
They might behold herA
For whom they sighF
When link 'd togetherA
In every weatherA
They pluck Love's featherA
From out his wingC
He'll stay for everA
But sadly shiverA
Without his plumage when past the SpringC
-
Like chiefs of FactionD
His life is actionD
A formal pactionD
That curbs his reignD
Obscures his gloryG
Despot no more heG
Such territoryG
Quits with disdainD
Still still advancingC
With banners glancingC
His power enhancingC
He must move onD
Repose but cloys himH
Retreat destroys himH
Love brooks not a degraded throneD
-
Wait not fond loverA
Till years are overA
And then recoverA
As from a dreamI
While each bewailingC
The other's failingC
With wrath and railingC
All hideous seemI
While first decreasingC
Yet not quite ceasingC
Wait not till teasingC
All passion blightJ
If once diminish'dK
Love's reign is finish'dK
Then part in friendship and hid good nightJ
-
So shall AffectionD
To recollectionD
The dear connexionD
Bring back with joyL
You had not waitedE
Till tired or hatedE
Your passions satedM
Began to cloyL
Your last embracesN
Leave no cold tracesO
The same fond facesO
As through the pastP
And eyes the mirrorsQ
Of your sweet errorsQ
Reflect but rapture not least though lastP
-
True separationsR
Ask more than patienceS
What desperationsS
From such have risenD
But yet remainingC
What is't but chainingC
Hearts which once waningC
Beat 'gainst their prisonD
Time can but cloy loveT
And use destroy loveT
The winged boy LoveT
Is but for boysS
You'll find it tortureA
Though sharper shorterA
To wean and not wear out your joysS

George Gordon Byron



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