Names Upon A Stone: (inscribed To G. L. Fagan, Esq.) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCD EFEEGEHE IEIEEJEJ EKEKLMLM NONOPJPJ DQDQERES TUTUVEVE WDWDXYXY ZEZEEJEJ

ACROSS bleak widths of broken seaA
A fierce north easter breaksB
And makes a thunder on the leaA
A whiteness of the lakesB
Here while beyond the rainy streamC
The wild winds sobbing blowD
I see the river of my dreamC
Four wasted years agoD
-
Narrara of the waterfallsE
The darling of the hillsF
Whose home is under mountain wallsE
By many luted rillsE
Her bright green nooks and channels coolG
I never more may seeE
But ah the Past was beautifulH
The sights that used to beE
-
There was a rock pool in a glenI
Beyond Narrara s sandsE
The mountains shut it in from menI
In flowerful fairy landsE
But once we found its dwelling placeE
The lovely and the loneJ
And in a dream I stooped to traceE
Our names upon a stoneJ
-
Above us where the star like mossE
Shone on the wet green wallK
That spanned the straitened stream acrossE
We saw the waterfallK
A silver singer far awayL
By folded hills and hoarM
Its voice is in the woods to dayL
A voice I hear no moreM
-
I wonder if the leaves that screenN
The rock pool of the pastO
Are yet as soft and cool and greenN
As when we saw them lastO
I wonder if that tender thingP
The moss has overgrownJ
The letters by the limpid springP
Our names upon the stoneJ
-
Across the face of scenes we knowD
There may have come a changeQ
The places seen four years agoD
Perhaps would now look strangeQ
To you indeed they cannot beE
What haply once they wereR
A friend beloved by you and meE
No more will greet us thereS
-
Because I know the filial griefT
That shrinks beneath the touchU
The noble love whose words are briefT
I will not say too muchU
But often when the night winds strikeV
Across the sighing rillsE
I think of him whose life was likeV
The rock pool s in the hillsE
-
A beauty like the light of songW
Is in my dreams that showD
The grand old man who lived so longW
As spotless as the snowD
A fitting garland for the deadX
I cannot compass yetY
But many things he did and saidX
I never will forgetY
-
In dells where once we used to roveZ
The slow sad water grievesE
And ever comes from glimmering groveZ
The liturgy of leavesE
But time and toil have marked my faceE
My heart has older grownJ
Since in the woods I stooped to traceE
Our names upon the stoneJ

Henry Kendall



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