Epimetheus Or The Poet's Afterthought Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAAB CDEFD CCCCC CGCCG CBCCB BBBBB GCGGC GDGGD HCHHC GIGGI IIIII GGGGG CGCCG

Have I dreamed or was it realA
What I saw as in a visionB
When to marches hymenealA
In the land of the IdealA
Moved my thought o'er Fields ElysianB
-
What are these the guests whose glancesC
Seemed like sunshine gleaming round meD
These the wild bewildering fanciesE
That with dithyrambic dancesF
As with magic circles bound meD
-
Ah how cold are their caressesC
Pallid cheeks and haggard bosomsC
Spectral gleam their snow white dressesC
And from loose dishevelled tressesC
Fall the hyacinthine blossomsC
-
O my songs whose winsome measuresC
Filled my heart with secret raptureG
Children of my golden leisuresC
Must even your delights and pleasuresC
Fade and perish with the captureG
-
Fair they seemed those songs sonorousC
When they came to me unbiddenB
Voices single and in chorusC
Like the wild birds singing o'er usC
In the dark of branches hiddenB
-
Disenchantment DisillusionB
Must each noble aspirationB
Come at last to this conclusionB
Jarring discord wild confusionB
Lassitude renunciationB
-
Not with steeper fall nor fasterG
From the sun's serene dominionsC
Not through brighter realms nor vasterG
In swift ruin and disasterG
Icarus fell with shattered pinionsC
-
Sweet Pandora dear PandoraG
Why did mighty Jove create theeD
Coy as Thetis fair as FloraG
Beautiful as young AuroraG
If to win thee is to hate theeD
-
No not hate thee for this feelingH
Of unrest and long resistanceC
Is but passionate appealingH
A prophetic whisper stealingH
O'er the chords of our existenceC
-
Him whom thou dost once enamourG
Thou beloved never leavestI
In life's discord strife and clamorG
Still he feels thy spell of glamourG
Him of Hope thou ne'er bereavestI
-
Weary hearts by thee are liftedI
Struggling souls by thee are strengthenedI
Clouds of fear asunder riftedI
Truth from falsehood cleansed and siftedI
Lives like days in summer lengthenedI
-
Therefore art thou ever clearerG
O my Sibyl my deceiverG
For thou makest each mystery clearerG
And the unattained seems nearerG
When thou fillest my heart with feverG
-
Muse of all the Gifts and GracesC
Though the fields around us witherG
There are ampler realms and spacesC
Where no foot has left its tracesC
Let us turn and wander thitherG

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



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