Prelude - The Wayside Inn - Part Third Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDADD EAAEDADDDD FGGFF HIIHJJKKDDDD LDDDLL MMNOONNPQRPPRQ DDSSDTTTUU DVDQQVQQWMQQWXXHHQHQ DHDH DDDD YZA2A2YB2

The evening came the golden vaneA
A moment in the sunset glancedB
Then darkened and then gleamed againC
As from the east the moon advancedB
And touched it with a softer lightD
While underneath with flowing maneA
Upon the sign the Red Horse prancedD
And galloped forth into the nightD
-
But brighter than the afternoonE
That followed the dark day of rainA
And brighter than the golden vaneA
That glistened in the rising moonE
Within the ruddy fire light gleamedD
And every separate window paneA
Backed by the outer darkness showedD
A mirror where the flamelets gleamedD
And flickered to and fro and seemedD
A bonfire lighted in the roadD
-
Amid the hospitable glowF
Like an old actor on the stageG
With the uncertain voice of ageG
The singing chimney chanted lowF
The homely songs of long agoF
-
The voice that Ossian heard of yoreH
When midnight winds were in his hallI
A ghostly and appealing callI
A sound of days that are no moreH
And dark as Ossian sat the JewJ
And listened to the sound and knewJ
The passing of the airy hostsK
The gray and misty cloud of ghostsK
In their interminable flightD
And listening muttered in his beardD
With accent indistinct and weirdD
Who are ye children of the NightD
-
Beholding his mysterious faceL
Tell me the gay Sicilian saidD
Why was it that in breaking breadD
At supper you bent down your headD
And musing paused a little spaceL
As one who says a silent graceL
-
The Jew replied with solemn airM
I said the Manichaean's prayerM
It was his faith perhaps is mineN
That life in all its forms is oneO
And that its secret conduits runO
Unseen but in unbroken lineN
From the great fountain head divineN
Through man and beast through grain and grassP
Howe'er we struggle strive and cryQ
From death there can be no escapeR
And no escape from life alasP
Because we cannot die but passP
From one into another shapeR
It is but into life we dieQ
-
Therefore the Manichaean saidD
This simple prayer on breaking breadD
Lest he with hasty hand or knifeS
Might wound the incarcerated lifeS
The soul in things that we call deadD
'I did not reap thee did not bind theeT
I did not thrash thee did not grind theeT
Nor did I in the oven bake theeT
It was not I it was anotherU
Did these things unto thee O brotherU
I only have thee hold thee break thee '-
-
That birds have souls I can concedeD
The poet cried with glowing cheeksV
The flocks that from their beds of reedD
Uprising north or southward flyQ
And flying write upon the skyQ
The biforked letter of the GreeksV
As hath been said by RucellaiQ
All birds that sing or chirp or cryQ
Even those migratory bandsW
The minor poets of the airM
The plover peep and sanderlingQ
That hardly can be said to singQ
But pipe along the barren sandsW
All these have souls akin to oursX
So hath the lovely race of flowersX
Thus much I grant but nothing moreH
The rusty hinges of a doorH
Are not alive because they creakQ
This chimney with its dreary roarH
These rattling windows do not speakQ
To me they speak the Jew repliedD
And in the sounds that sink and soarH
I hear the voices of a tideD
That breaks upon an unknown shoreH
-
Here the Sicilian interferedD
That was your dream then as you dozedD
A moment since with eyes half closedD
And murmured something in your beardD
-
The Hebrew smiled and answered NayY
Not that but something very nearZ
Like and yet not the same may seemA2
The vision of my waking dreamA2
Before it wholly dies awayY
Listen to me and you shall hearB2

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



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