Pr |aeceptor Amat Poem Rhyme Scheme

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It is time it was time long ago I should sever	A
This chain why I wear it I know not forever	A
Yet I cling to the bond e'en while sick of the mask	B
I must wear as of one whom his commonplace task	B
And proof armor of dullness have steeled to her charms	C
Ah how lovely she looked as she flung from her arms	C
In heaps to this table now starred with the stains	D
Of her booty yet wet with those yesterday rains	D
These roses and lilies and what let me see	E
Then was off in a moment but turned with a glee	E
That lit her sweet face as with moonlight to say	F
As 't was almost too late for a lesson to day	F
She meant to usurp for this morning at least	G
My office of Tutor and instead of a feast	G
Of such mouthfuls as poluphloisboio thalasses'	F
With which I fed her I should study the grasses	F
Love grasses she called them the buds and the flowers	F
Of which I know nothing and if with MY powers	F
I did not learn all she could teach in that time	H
And thank her perhaps in a sweet English rhyme	H
If I did not do this and she flung back her hair	I
And shook her bright head with a menacing air	I
She'd be oh she'd be a real Saracen Omar	J
To a certain much valued edition of Homer	A
But these flowers I believe I could number as soon	K
The shadowy thoughts of a last summer's noon	K
Or recall with their phases each one after one	L
The clouds that came down to the death of the Sun	L
Cirrus Stratus or Nimbus some evening last year	M
As unravel the web of one genus Why there	I
As they lie by my desk in that glistering heap	N
All tangled together like dreams in the sleep	N
Of a bliss fevered heart I might turn them and turn	O
Till night in a puzzle of pleasure and learn	O
Not a fact not a secret I prize half so much	P
As how rough is this leaf when I think of her touch	P
There's one now blown yonder what can be its name	Q
A topaz wine colored the wine in a flame	Q
And another that's hued like the pulp of a melon	L
But sprinkled all o'er as with seed pearls of Ceylon	R
And a third its white petals just clouded with pink	S
And a fourth that blue star and then this too I think	S
If one brought me this moment an amethyst cup	T
From which through a liquor of amber looked up	T
With a glow as of eyes in their elfin like lustre	A
Stones culled from all lands in a sunshiny cluster	A
From the ruby that burns in the sands of Mysore	A
To the beryl of Daunia with gems from the core	A
Of the mountains of Persia I talk like a boy	U
In the flush of some new and yet half tasted joy	U
But I think if that cup and its jewels together	A
Were placed by the side of this child of the weather	A
This one which she touched with her mouth and let slip	V
From her fingers by chance as her exquisite lip	V
With a music befitting the language divine	W
Gave the roll of the Greek's multitudinous line	W
I should take not the gems but enough let me shut	X
In the blossom that woke it my folly and put	Y
Both away in my bosom there in a heart niche	Z
One shall outlive the other is 't hard to tell which	Z
In the name of all starry and beautiful things	F
What is it the cross in the centre these rings	F
And the petals that shoot in an intricate maze	F
From the disk which is lilac or purple like rays	F
In a blue Aureole	A2
	-
And so now will she wot	Y
When I sit by her side with my brows in a knot	Y
And praise her so calmly or chide her perhaps	F
If her voice falter once in its musical lapse	F
As I've done I confess just to gaze at a flush	B2
In the white of her throat or to watch the quick rush	B2
Of the tear she sheds smiling as drooping her curls	F
O'er that book I keep shrined like a casket of pearls	F
She reads on in low tones of such tremulous sweetness	F
That in spite of some faults I am forced in discreetness	F
To silence lest mine growing hoarse should betray	A
What I must not reveal will she guess now I say	A
How for all his grave looks the stern passionless Tutor	A
With more than the love of her youthfulest suitor	A
Is hiding somewhere in the shroud of his vest	Y
By a heart that is beating wild wings in its nest	Y
This flower thrown aside in the sport of a minute	Y
And which he holds dear as though folded within it	Y
Lay the germ of the bliss that he dreams of Ah me	E
It is hard to love thus yet to seem and to be	E
A thing for indifference faint praise or cold blame	Q
When you long by the right of deep passion the claim	Q
On the loved of the loving at least to be heard	Y
To take the white hand and with glance touch and word	Y
Burn your way to the heart That her step on the stair	A
Be still thou fond flutterer	A
	-
How little I care	A
For your favorites see they are all of them look	C2
On the spot where they fell and but here is your book	C2

Henry Timrod

Pr |aeceptor Amat Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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