The Late W. V. Wild, Esq. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABBBBC DEDEFFFC GHGHIIIC JKJKLLLC ABABBBBC| SAD FACES came round and I dreamily said | A |
| Though the harp of my country now slumbers | B |
| Some hand will pass o er it in love for the dead | A |
| And attune it to sorrowful numbers | B |
| But the hopes that I clung to are withering things | B |
| For the days have gone by with a cloud on their wings | B |
| And the touch of a bard is unknown to the strings | B |
| Oh why art thou silent Australia | C |
| - | |
| The leaves of the autumn are scattering fast | D |
| The willows look barren and lonely | E |
| But I dream a sad dream of my friend of the past | D |
| And his form I can dwell upon only | E |
| In the strength of his youth I can see him go by | F |
| There is health on the cheek and a fire in the eye | F |
| Oh who would have thought that such beauty could die | F |
| Ah mourn for thy noblest Australia | C |
| - | |
| A strange shadow broods o er the desolate earth | G |
| And the cypresses tremble and quiver | H |
| But my heart waxeth dark with the thoughts of the worth | G |
| That has left us for ever and ever | H |
| A dull cloud creepeth close to the moon | I |
| And the winter winds pass with a shuddering croon | I |
| Oh why was he snatched from his brothers so soon | I |
| Ah weep for thy lost one Australia | C |
| - | |
| How weary we grow when we turn to reflect | J |
| Upon what we have seen and believed in | K |
| When harping on promises hopelessly wrecked | J |
| And the things we have all been deceived in | K |
| When a voice that I loved lingers near to me yet | L |
| And a kind handsome face which I ll never forget | L |
| Can I wake to the present and stifle regret | L |
| Can I smother these feelings Australia | C |
| - | |
| It is useless to grieve o er the light that has fled | A |
| But the harp of my country still slumbers | B |
| And I thought that some bard in his love for the dead | A |
| Would have thrilled it to sorrowful numbers | B |
| Lo the hopes that I clung to are withering things | B |
| For the days have gone by with a cloud on their wings | B |
| And my hand is too feeble to strike at the strings | B |
| Oh why art thou silent Australia | C |
Henry Kendall
(1)
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