The Antiquarian Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCCB DEFGGF HHIJKI FFLMML NNFOPF QQRFFR FFSFFS FFTFFT UUVHHV WWFAAF XXKMMK YYZA2A2B2 YYHC2C2H BBHD2D2H E2E2HFFH FFFWWF F2F2CCCC HHWG2G2W

Millions have been and passed from viewA
Benignity who never knewA
No aspiration theirs nor aimB
Existence soulless as the clayC
From whence they sprang what right have theyC
To eulogy or fameB
-
So multitudes have been forgotD
But drones or dunces good for naughtE
Like clinging parasites or burrsF
Taking from others all they daredG
Yet little they for others caredG
Except as pilferersF
-
Not so with that majestic manH
The all round antiquarianH
No model his nor parallelI
From selfishness inviolateJ
Are his achievements good and greatK
And thus shall ages tellI
-
A love for the antiquitiesF
His honest hold his birthright isF
And things unheard of or unreadL
Defaced by moth or rust or moldM
To him are treasures more than goldM
Ay than his daily breadL
-
At neither ghost nor ghoul aghastN
He echoes voices of the pastN
And tones like melancholy knellsF
Of years departed to his earO
Are sweeter than of kindred dearP
Sweeter than Florimel'sF
-
He delves through centuries of dustQ
To resurrect some unknown bustQ
A torso or a goddess wholeR
Maybe like Venus minus armsF
Haply to find those missing charmsF
But not the lost lost soulR
-
He dotes on aboriginesF
Who lived in caves and hollow treesF
And barters for their trinkets rareS
Exchanging with those dusky breedsF
For arrow heads and shells and beadsF
A scalplock of his hairS
-
Had he been born thus he lamentsF
Along with other great eventsF
Coeval say with Noah's floodT
A proud relationship to traceF
With Hittites or with any raceF
Of blue archaic bloodT
-
Much he adores that Pilgrim flockU
The same that split old Plymouth rockU
Their Bay Psalm when they tried to singV
Devoid of metre sense and tuneH
Who but a Puritanic loonH
Could have devised the thingV
-
He revels in a pedigreeW
The sprouting of a noble treeW
'Way back in prehistoric timesF
And for the Family Record trueA
Of scions all that ever grewA
Would give a billion dimesF
-
There is a language fossils speakX
'Tis not like Latin much less GreekX
But quite as dead and antiquateK
Its silent syllables and coldM
But ah what meanings they unfoldM
What histories relateK
-
The earthquake is his best allyY
It shows up things he cannot buyY
And gives him raw materialZ
For making mastodons and suchA2
Enough to beat that ancient DutchA2
Republic's Rise and FallB2
-
A piece of bone can never lieY
A rib a femur or a thighY
Is but a dislocated signH
Of something hybrid half and halfC2
Betwixt a crocodile and calfC2
Maybe a porcupineH
-
The stately AntiquariumB
Is his emporium his homeB
He wonders if when he is goneH
Will people look with mournful prideD2
On him done up and classifiedD2
And the right label onH
-
He dreams of an emblazoned pageE2
The calendar of every ageE2
Down from Creation's primal dawnH
With archetypes of spears and bonesF
And tons of undeciphered stonesF
Its illustrations drawnH
-
Labor a blessing not a curseF
His hunting ground the UniverseF
So much the more his nature cravesF
To sound the fathoms of the seaW
What mighty wonders there must beW
Down in those hidden cavesF
-
So toils this dauntless man alertF2
Amid the ruins and the dirtF2
That other men to endless dayC
Themselves uplifted from the clodC
May see and learn and know that GodC
Is greater far than theyC
-
And thus of mighty ken and planH
The all round antiquarianH
Pursues his happy ministryW
And on the world's progressive trackG2
Advances always going backG2
Back to antiquityW

Hattie Howard



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