Lines Supposed To Be Spoken By A Lover At The Grave Of His Mistress, Occasioned By A Situation In A Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHDDIBJBDKLJAD MN OPQRNBQGDSTHUVWXYHCZ EAMA2B2FC2D2DE2F2G2H 2

Mary the moon is sleeping on thy graveA
And on the turf thy lover sad is kneelingB
The big tear in his eye Mary awakeC
From thy dark house arise and bless his sightD
On the pale moonbeam gliding Soft and lowE
Pour on the silver ear of night thy taleF
Thy whisper'd tale of comfort and of loveG
To soothe thy Edward's lorn distracted soulH
And cheer his breaking heart Come as thou didstD
When o'er the barren moors the night wind howl'dD
And the deep thunders shook the ebon throneI
Of the startled night O then as lone recliningB
I listen'd sadly to the dismal stormJ
Thou on the lambent lightnings wild careeringB
Didst strike my moody eye dead pale thou wertD
Yet passing lovely Thou didst smile upon meK
And oh thy voice it rose so musicalL
Betwixt the hollow pauses of the stormJ
That at the sound the winds forgot to raveA
And the stern demon of the tempest charm'dD
Sunk on his rocking throne to still reposeM
Lock'd in the arms of silenceN
-
Spirit of herO
My only love O now again ariseP
And let once more thine a euml ry accents fallQ
Soft on my listening ear The night is calmR
The gloomy willows wave in sinking cadenceN
With the stream that sweeps below Divinely swellingB
On the still air the distant waterfallQ
Mingles its melody and high aboveG
The pensive empress of the solemn nightD
Fitful emerging from the rapid cloudsS
Shows her chaste face in the meridian skyT
No wicked elves upon the Warlock knollH
Dare now assemble at their mystic revelsU
It is a night when from their primrose bedsV
The gentle ghosts of injured innocentsW
Are known to rise and wander on the breezeX
Or take their stand by the oppressor's couchY
And strike grim terror to his guilty soulH
The spirit of my love might now awakeC
And hold its custom'd converseZ
-
Mary loE
Thy Edward kneels upon thy verdant graveA
And calls upon thy name The breeze that blowsM
On his wan cheek will soon sweep over himA2
In solemn music a funereal dirgeB2
Wild and most sorrowful His cheek is paleF
The worm that prey'd upon thy youthful bloomC2
It canker'd green on his Now lost he standsD2
The ghost of what he was and the cold dewD
Which bathes his aching temples gives sure omenE2
Of speedy dissolution Mary soonF2
Thy love will lay his pallid cheek to thineG2
And sweetly will he sleep with thee in deathH2

Henry Kirk White



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