Dead Selves Poem Rhyme Scheme

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How many of my selves are dead	A
The ghosts of many haunt me Lo	B
The baby in the tiny bed	A
With rockers on is blanketed	C
And sleeping in the long ago	B
And so I ask with shaking head	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
A little face with drowsy eyes	D
And lisping lips comes mistily	B
From out the faded past and tries	D
The prayers a mother breathed with sighs	D
Of anxious care in teaching me	E
But face and form and prayers have fled	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
The little naked feet that slipped	F
In truant paths and led the way	G
Through dead'ning pasture lands and tripped	F
O'er tangled poison vines and dipped	F
In streams forbidden where are they	G
In vain I listen for their tread	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
The awkward boy the teacher caught	H
Inditing letters filled with love	I
Who was compelled for all he fought	J
To read aloud each tender thought	J
Of 'Sugar Lump' and 'Turtle Dove '	-
I wonder where he hides his head	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
The earnest features of a youth	K
With manly fringe on lip and chin	L
With eager tongue to tell the truth	K
To offer love and life forsooth	K
So brave was he to woo and win	L
A prouder man was never wed	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
The great strong hands so all inclined	M
To welcome toil or smooth the care	N
From mother brows or quick to find	M
A leisure scrap of any kind	M
To toss the baby in the air	N
Or clap at babbling things it said	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
The pact of brawn and scheming brain	O
Conspiring in the plots of wealth	K
Still delving till the lengthened chain	O
Unwindlassed in the mines of gain	O
Recoils with dregs of ruined health	K
And pain and poverty instead	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
The faltering step the faded hair	N
Head heart and soul all echoing	P
With maundering fancies that declare	N
That life and love were never there	N
Nor ever joy in anything	P
Nor wounded heart that ever bled	A
How many of my selves are dead	A
	-
So many of my selves are dead	A
That bending here above the brink	Q
Of my last grave with dizzy head	A
I find my spirit comforted	C
For all the idle things I think	Q
It can but be a peaceful bed	A
Since all my other selves are dead	A

James Whitcomb Riley

Dead Selves Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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