Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The Fiftieth Anniversary Of The Class Of 1825 In Bowdoin College Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABC CCDE FFGGH HCCII JKLLMMNN OOPPCCQRSSS TTUUV VWWLL XXPPKJYYTTZA2B2B2C2C 2 D2D2CCE2E2 F2F2D2D2G2G2H2H2I2I2 D2D2 D2D2D2D2D2D2J2J2K2K2 EE L2RM2M2D2D2D2D2D2D2 D2D2EECC N2N2D2D2O2O2P2Q2 R2R2S2S2EED2D2EEEED2 D2 EEXXK2K2Q2Q2D2D2D2D2 T2T2 EEGGEE D2D2EELLD2D2EEFFD2D2 U2U2EEQ2P2K2K2 D2D2D2D2EES2S2 U2U2U2U2D2D2D2EM2M2D 2D2V2V2D2D2D2D2W2W2 D2D2D2D2D2D2XXD2D2 D2D2D2D2CCV2V2D2D2 EED2D2U2U2X2X2XXX2X2 X2X2EEQ2Q2 D2D2D2D2EEEEP2P2EED2 D2Y2Y2EE Z2Z2U2U2U2U2Q2Q2A3A3 B3B3U2U2D2D2C3C3 EED2D2U2U2D2D2D3D3EE EE

Tempora labuntur tacitisque senescimus annisA
Et fugiunt freno non remorante diesB
Ovid Fastorum Lib viC
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O C sar we who are about to dieC
Salute you was the gladiators' cryC
In the arena standing face to faceD
With death and with the Roman populaceE
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O ye familiar scenes ye groves of pineF
That once were mine and are no longer mineF
Thou river widening through the meadows greenG
To the vast sea so near and yet unseenG
Ye halls in whose seclusion and reposeH
-
Phantoms of fame like exhalations roseH
And vanished we who are about to dieC
Salute you earth and air and sea and skyC
And the Imperial Sun that scatters downI
His sovereign splendors upon grove and townI
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Ye do not answer us ye do not hearJ
We are forgotten and in your austereK
And calm indifference ye little careL
Whether we come or go or whence or whereL
What passing generations fill these hallsM
What passing voices echo from these wallsM
Ye heed not we are only as the blastN
A moment heard and then forever pastN
-
Not so the teachers who in earlier daysO
Led our bewildered feet through learning's mazeO
They answer us alas what have I saidP
What greetings come there from the voiceless deadP
What salutation welcome or replyC
What pressure from the hands that lifeless lieC
They are no longer here they all are goneQ
Into the land of shadows all save oneR
Honor and reverence and the good reputeS
That follows faithful service as its fruitS
Be unto him whom living we saluteS
-
The great Italian poet when he madeT
His dreadful journey to the realms of shadeT
Met there the old instructor of his youthU
And cried in tones of pity and of ruthU
Oh never from the memory of my heartV
-
Your dear paternal image shall departV
Who while on earth ere yet by death surprisedW
Taught me how mortals are immortalizedW
How grateful am I for that patient careL
All my life long my language shall declareL
-
To day we make the poet's words our ownX
And utter them in plaintive undertoneX
Nor to the living only be they saidP
But to the other living called the deadP
Whose dear paternal images appearK
Not wrapped in gloom but robed in sunshine hereJ
Whose simple lives complete and without flawY
Were part and parcel of great Nature's lawY
Who said not to their Lord as if afraidT
Here is thy talent in a napkin laidT
But labored in their sphere as men who liveZ
In the delight that work alone can giveA2
Peace be to them eternal peace and restB2
And the fulfilment of the great behestB2
Ye have been faithful over a few thingsC2
Over ten cities shall ye reign as kingsC2
-
And ye who fill the places we once filledD2
And follow in the furrows that we tilledD2
Young men whose generous hearts are beating highC
We who are old and are about to dieC
Salute you hail you take your hands in oursE2
And crown you with our welcome as with flowersE2
-
How beautiful is youth how bright it gleamsF2
With its illusions aspirations dreamsF2
Book of Beginnings Story without EndD2
Each maid a heroine and each man a friendD2
Aladdin's Lamp and Fortunatus' PurseG2
That holds the treasures of the universeG2
All possibilities are in its handsH2
No danger daunts it and no foe withstandsH2
In its sublime audacity of faithI2
Be thou removed it to the mountain saithI2
And with ambitious feet secure and proudD2
Ascends the ladder leaning on the cloudD2
-
As ancient Priam at the Sc an gateD2
Sat on the walls of Troy in regal stateD2
With the old men too old and weak to fightD2
Chirping like grasshoppers in their delightD2
To see the embattled hosts with spear and shieldD2
Of Trojans and Achaians in the fieldD2
So from the snowy summits of our yearsJ2
We see you in the plain as each appearsJ2
And question of you asking Who is heK2
That towers above the others Which may beK2
Atreides Menelaus OdysseusE
Ajax the great or bold IdomeneusE
-
Let him not boast who puts his armor onL2
As he who puts it off the battle doneR
Study yourselves and most of all note wellM2
Wherein kind Nature meant you to excelM2
Not every blossom ripens into fruitD2
Minerva the inventress of the fluteD2
Flung it aside when she her face surveyedD2
Distorted in a fountain as she playedD2
The unlucky Marsyas found it and his fateD2
Was one to make the bravest hesitateD2
-
Write on your doors the saying wise and oldD2
Be bold be bold and everywhere Be boldD2
Be not too bold Yet better the excessE
Than the defect better the more than lessE
Better like Hector in the field to dieC
Than like a perfumed Paris turn and flyC
-
And now my classmates ye remaining fewN2
That number not the half of those we knewN2
Ye against whose familiar names not yetD2
The fatal asterisk of death is setD2
Ye I salute The horologe of TimeO2
Strikes the half century with a solemn chimeO2
And summons us together once againP2
The joy of meeting not unmixed with painQ2
-
Where are the others Voices from the deepR2
Caverns of darkness answer me They sleepR2
I name no names instinctively I feelS2
Each at some well remembered grave will kneelS2
And from the inscription wipe the weeds and mossE
For every heart best knoweth its own lossE
I see their scattered gravestones gleaming whiteD2
Through the pale dusk of the impending nightD2
O'er all alike the impartial sunset throwsE
Its golden lilies mingled with the roseE
We give to each a tender thought and passE
Out of the graveyards with their tangled grassE
Unto these scenes frequented by our feetD2
When we were young and life was fresh and sweetD2
-
What shall I say to you What can I sayE
Better than silence is When I surveyE
This throng of faces turned to meet my ownX
Friendly and fair and yet to me unknownX
Transformed the very landscape seems to beK2
It is the same yet not the same to meK2
So many memories crowd upon my brainQ2
So many ghosts are in the wooded plainQ2
I fain would steal away with noiseless treadD2
As from a house where some one lieth deadD2
I cannot go I pause I hesitateD2
My feet reluctant linger at the gateD2
As one who struggles in a troubled dreamT2
To speak and cannot to myself I seemT2
-
Vanish the dream Vanish the idle fearsE
Vanish the rolling mists of fifty yearsE
Whatever time or space may interveneG
I will not be a stranger in this sceneG
Here every doubt all indecision endsE
Hail my companions comrades classmates friendsE
-
Ah me the fifty years since last we metD2
Seem to me fifty folios bound and setD2
By Time the great transcriber on his shelvesE
Wherein are written the histories of ourselvesE
What tragedies what comedies are thereL
What joy and grief what rapture and despairL
What chronicles of triumph and defeatD2
Of struggle and temptation and retreatD2
What records of regrets and doubts and fearsE
What pages blotted blistered by our tearsE
What lovely landscapes on the margin shineF
What sweet angelic faces what divineF
And holy images of love and trustD2
Undimmed by age unsoiled by damp or dustD2
Whose hand shall dare to open and exploreU2
These volumes closed and clasped forevermoreU2
Not mine With reverential feet I passE
I hear a voice that cries Alas alasE
Whatever hath been written shall remainQ2
Nor be erased nor written o'er againP2
The unwritten only still belongs to theeK2
Take heed and ponder well what that shall beK2
-
As children frightened by a thunder cloudD2
Are reassured if some one reads aloudD2
A tale of wonder with enchantment fraughtD2
Or wild adventure that diverts their thoughtD2
Let me endeavor with a tale to chaseE
The gathering shadows of the time and placeE
And banish what we all too deeply feelS2
Wholly to say or wholly to concealS2
-
In medi val Rome I know not whereU2
There stood an image with its arm in airU2
And on its lifted finger shining clearU2
A golden ring with the device Strike hereU2
Greatly the people wondered though none guessedD2
The meaning that these words but half expressedD2
Until a learned clerk who at noondayD2
With downcast eyes was passing on his wayE
Paused and observed the spot and marked it wellM2
Whereon the shadow of the finger fellM2
And coming back at midnight delved and foundD2
A secret stairway leading undergroundD2
Down this he passed into a spacious hallV2
Lit by a flaming jewel on the wallV2
And opposite in threatening attitudeD2
With bow and shaft a brazen statue stoodD2
Upon its forehead like a coronetD2
Were these mysterious words of menace setD2
That which I am I am my fatal aimW2
None can escape not even yon luminous flameW2
-
Midway the hall was a fair table placedD2
With cloth of gold and golden cups enchasedD2
With rubies and the plates and knives were goldD2
And gold the bread and viands manifoldD2
Around it silent motionless and sadD2
Were seated gallant knights in armor cladD2
And ladies beautiful with plume and zoneX
But they were stone their hearts within were stoneX
And the vast hall was filled in every partD2
With silent crowds stony in face and heartD2
-
Long at the scene bewildered and amazedD2
The trembling clerk in speechless wonder gazedD2
Then from the table by his greed made boldD2
He seized a goblet and a knife of goldD2
And suddenly from their seats the guests upsprangC
The vaulted ceiling with loud clamors rangC
The archer sped his arrow at their callV2
Shattering the lambent jewel on the wallV2
And all was dark around and overheadD2
Stark on the floor the luckless clerk lay deadD2
-
The writer of this legend then recordsE
Its ghostly application in these wordsE
The image is the Adversary oldD2
Whose beckoning finger points to realms of goldD2
Our lusts and passions are the downward stairU2
That leads the soul from a diviner airU2
The archer Death the flaming jewel LifeX2
Terrestrial goods the goblet and the knifeX2
The knights and ladies all whose flesh and boneX
By avarice have been hardened into stoneX
The clerk the scholar whom the love of pelfX2
Tempts from his books and from his nobler selfX2
-
The scholar and the world The endless strifeX2
The discord in the harmonies of lifeX2
The love of learning the sequestered nooksE
And all the sweet serenity of booksE
The market place the eager love of gainQ2
Whose aim is vanity and whose end is painQ2
-
But why you ask me should this tale be toldD2
To men grown old or who are growing oldD2
It is too late Ah nothing is too lateD2
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitateD2
Cato learned Greek at eighty SophoclesE
Wrote his grand Oedipus and SimonidesE
Bore off the prize of verse from his compeersE
When each had numbered more than fourscore yearsE
And Theophrastus at fourscore and tenP2
Had but begun his Characters of MenP2
Chaucer at Woodstock with the nightingalesE
At sixty wrote the Canterbury TalesE
Goethe at Weimar toiling to the lastD2
Completed Faust when eighty years were pastD2
These are indeed exceptions but they showY2
How far the gulf stream of our youth may flowY2
Into the arctic regions of our livesE
Where little else than life itself survivesE
-
As the barometer foretells the stormZ2
While still the skies are clear the weather warmZ2
So something in us as old age draws nearU2
Betrays the pressure of the atmosphereU2
The nimble mercury ere we are awareU2
Descends the elastic ladder of the airU2
The telltale blood in artery and veinQ2
Sinks from its higher levels in the brainQ2
Whatever poet orator or sageA3
May say of it old age is still old ageA3
It is the waning not the crescent moonB3
The dusk of evening not the blaze of noonB3
It is not strength but weakness not desireU2
But its surcease not the fierce heat of fireU2
The burning and consuming elementD2
But that of ashes and of embers spentD2
In which some living sparks we still discernC3
Enough to warm but not enough to burnC3
-
What then Shall we sit idly down and sayE
The night hath come it is no longer dayE
The night hath not yet come we are not quiteD2
Cut off from labor by the failing lightD2
Something remains for us to do or dareU2
Even the oldest tree some fruit may bearU2
Not Oedipus Coloneus or Greek OdeD2
Or tales of pilgrims that one morning rodeD2
Out of the gateway of the Tabard InnD3
But other something would we but beginD3
For age is opportunity no lessE
Than youth itself though in another dressE
And as the evening twilight fades awayE
The sky is filled with stars invisible by dayE

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



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