Sunday Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCAC DEDEFDG HIJKLML NOFPQFQ RSRSTRT UVUWXUX JYJYCJC CUCUUCU ZXZXJZJ| O day most calm most bright | A |
| The fruit of this the next world's bud | B |
| Th'endorsement of supreme delight | A |
| Writ by a friend and with his blood | B |
| The couch of time care's balm and bay | C |
| The week were dark but for thy light | A |
| Thy torch doth show the way | C |
| - | |
| The other days and thou | D |
| Make up one man whose face thou art | E |
| Knocking at heaven with thy brow | D |
| The worky days are the back part | E |
| The burden of the week lies there | F |
| Making the whole to stoop and bow | D |
| Till thy release appear | G |
| - | |
| Man had straight forward gone | H |
| To endless death but thou dost pull | I |
| And turn us round to look on one | J |
| Whom if we were not very dull | K |
| We could not choose to look on still | L |
| Since there is no place so alone | M |
| The which he doth not fill | L |
| - | |
| Sundays the pillars are | N |
| On which heav'n's palace arched lies | O |
| The other days fill up the spare | F |
| And hollow room with vanities | P |
| They are the fruitful beds and borders | Q |
| In God's rich garden that is bare | F |
| Which parts their ranks and orders | Q |
| - | |
| The Sundays of man's life | R |
| Threaded together on time's string | S |
| Make bracelets to adorn the wife | R |
| Of the eternal glorious King | S |
| On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope | T |
| Blessings are plentiful and rife | R |
| More plentiful than hope | T |
| - | |
| This day my Saviour rose | U |
| And did enclose this light for his | V |
| That as each beast his manger knows | U |
| Man might not of his fodder miss | W |
| Christ hath took in this piece of ground | X |
| And made a garden there for those | U |
| Who want herbs for their wound | X |
| - | |
| The rest of our Creation | J |
| Our great Redeemer did remove | Y |
| With the same shake which at his passion | J |
| Did th'earth and all things with it move | Y |
| As Samson bore the doors away | C |
| Christ's hands though nail'd wrought our salvation | J |
| And did unhinge that day | C |
| - | |
| The brightness of that day | C |
| We sullied by our foul offence | U |
| Wherefore that robe we cast away | C |
| Having a new at his expense | U |
| Whose drops of bloud paid the full price | U |
| That was requir'd to make us gay | C |
| And fit for Paradise | U |
| - | |
| Thou art a day of mirth | Z |
| And where the weekdays trail on ground | X |
| Thy flight is higher as thy birth | Z |
| O let me take thee at the bound | X |
| Leaping with thee from sev'n to sev'n | J |
| Till that we both being toss'd from earth | Z |
| Fly hand in hand to heav'n | J |
George Herbert
(1)
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About Sunday
Sunday is a poem by George Herbert. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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