Good Friday Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDDEEFFGHIIJJKKLLMM NNCCCCDDLLCCLKKKOOKK CCRiding Westward | A |
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Let man's soule be a spheare and then in this | B |
The intelligence that moves devotion is | C |
And as the other spheares by being growne | D |
Subject to forraigne motion lose their owne | D |
And being by others hurried every day | E |
Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey | E |
Pleasure or businesse so our soules admit | F |
For their first mover and are whirled by it | F |
Hence is't that I am carryed toward the West | G |
This day when my soule's forme leads toward the East | H |
There I should see a Sunne by rising set | I |
And by that setting endlesse day beget | I |
But that Christ on this Crosse did rise and fall | J |
Sinne had eternally benighted all | J |
Yet dare I almost be glad I do not see | K |
The spectacle of too much weight for mee | K |
Who sees God's face that is selfe life must dye | L |
What a death were it then to see God dye | L |
It made his own lieutenant Nature shrinke | M |
It made his footstoole crack and the sunne winke | M |
Could I behold those hands which span the poles | N |
And tune all spheares at once pierc'd with those holes | N |
Could I behold that endlesse height which is | C |
Zenith to us and our antipodes | C |
Humbled below us or that blood which is | C |
The seat of all our soules if not of his | C |
Made dust of dust or that flesh which was worne | D |
By God for his apparell rag'd and torne | D |
If on these things I durst not looke durst I | L |
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye | L |
Who was God's partner here and furnish'd thus | C |
Halfe of that Sacrifice which ransom'd us | C |
Though these things as I ride be from mine eye | L |
They are present yet into my memory | K |
For that looks towards them and thou lookst towards mee | K |
Saviour as thou hangst upon the tree | K |
I turne my backe to thee but to receive | O |
Corrections till thy mercies bid thee leave | O |
O thinke mee worth thine anger punish mee | K |
Burne off my rusts and my deformity | K |
Restore thine image so much by thy grace | C |
That thou may'st know mee and I'll turne my face | C |
John Donne
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