In Memory Of Edward Butler Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDEDFDGDGHIHI DFDFJDJD KDKDDDDD LMLMNOPO QJQJDGDG RLRLSTST DHDHUVUV DPDPFDFD DDDDWXWX MYMYZA2ZA2

A voice of grave deep emphasisA
Is in the woods to nightB
No sound of radiant day is thisC
No cadence of the lightB
Here in the fall and flights of leavesD
Against grey widths of seaE
The spirit of the forests grievesD
For lost PersephoneF
The fair divinity that rovesD
Where many waters singG
Doth miss her daughter of the grovesD
The golden headed SpringG
She cannot find the shining handH
That once the rose caressedI
There is no blossom on the landH
No bird in last year s nestI
-
Here where this strange Demeter weepsD
This large sad life unseenF
Where July s strong wild torrent leapsD
The wet hill heads betweenF
I sit and listen to the griefJ
The high supreme distressD
Which sobs above the fallen leafJ
Like human tendernessD
-
Where sighs the sedge and moans the marshK
The hermit plover callsD
The voice of straitened streams is harshK
By windy mountain wallsD
There is no gleam upon the hillsD
Of last October s wingsD
The shining lady of the rillsD
Is with forgotten thingsD
-
Now where the land s worn face is greyL
And storm is on the waveM
What flower is left to bear awayL
To Edward Butler s graveM
What tender rose of song is hereN
That I may pluck and sendO
Across the hills and seas austereP
To my lamented friendO
-
There is no blossom left at allQ
But this white winter leafJ
Whose glad green life is past recallQ
Is token of my griefJ
Where love is tending growths of graceD
The first born of the SpringG
Perhaps there may be found a placeD
For my pale offeringG
-
For this heroic Irish heartR
We miss so much to dayL
Whose life was of our lives a partR
What words have I to sayL
Because I know the noble woeS
That shrinks beneath the touchT
The pain of brothers stricken lowS
I will not say too muchT
-
But often in the lonely spaceD
When night is on the landH
I dream of a departed faceD
A gracious vanished handH
And when the solemn waters rollU
Against the outer steepV
I see a great benignant soulU
Beside me in my sleepV
-
Yea while the frost is on the waysD
With barren banks austereP
The friend I knew in other daysD
Is often very nearP
I do not hear a single toneF
But where this brother gleamsD
The elders of the seasons flownF
Are with me in my dreamsD
-
The saintly face of Stenhouse turnsD
His kind old eyes I seeD
And Pell and Ridley from their urnsD
Arise and look at meD
By Butler s side the lights revealW
The father of his foldX
I start from sleep in tears and feelW
That I am growing oldX
-
Where Edward Butler sleeps the waveM
Is hardly ever heardY
But now the leaves above his graveM
By August s songs are stirredY
The slope beyond is green and stillZ
And in my dreams I dreamA2
The hill is like an Irish hillZ
Beside an Irish streamA2

Henry Kendall



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