Extract From Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAABCBCBDDAAEFFEGHI IJJBBJJJJKKFFLLMMJJN NOOJJJJEJEJLLPQFRRFQ BRRBJJSSBJJQQ

How has New England's romance fledA
Even as a vision of the morningB
Its rites foredone its guardians deadA
Its priestesses bereft of dreadA
Waking the veriest urchin's scorningB
Gone like the Indian wizard's yellC
And fire dance round the magic rockB
Forgotten like the Druid's spellC
At moonrise by his holy oakB
No more along the shadowy glenD
Glide the dim ghosts of murdered menD
No more the unquiet churchyard deadA
Glimpse upward from their turfy bedA
Startling the traveller late and loneE
As on some night of starless weatherF
They silently commune togetherF
Each sitting on his own head stoneE
The roofless house decayed desertedG
Its living tenants all departedH
No longer rings with midnight revelI
Of witch or ghost or goblin evilI
No pale blue flame sends out its flashesJ
Through creviced roof and shattered sashesJ
The witch grass round the hazel springB
May sharply to the night air singB
But there no more shall withered hagsJ
Refresh at ease their broomstick nagsJ
Or taste those hazel shadowed watersJ
As beverage meet for Satan's daughtersJ
No more their mimic tones be heardK
The mew of cat the chirp of birdK
Shrill blending with the hoarser laughterF
Of the fell demon following afterF
The cautious goodman nails no moreL
A horseshoe on his outer doorL
Lest some unseemly hag should fitM
To his own mouth her bridle bitM
The goodwife's churn no more refusesJ
Its wonted culinary usesJ
Until with heated needle burnedN
The witch has to her place returnedN
Our witches are no longer oldO
And wrinkled beldames Satan soldO
But young and gay and laughing creaturesJ
With the heart's sunshine on their featuresJ
Their sorcery the light which dancesJ
Where the raised lid unveils its glancesJ
Or that low breathed and gentle toneE
The music of Love's twilight hoursJ
Soft dream like as a fairy's moanE
Above her nightly closing flowersJ
Sweeter than that which sighed of yoreL
Along the charmed Ausonian shoreL
Even she our own weird heroineP
Sole Pythoness of ancient Lynn 'Q
Sleeps calmly where the living laid herF
And the wide realm of sorceryR
Left by its latest mistress freeR
Hath found no gray and skilled invaderF
So perished Albion's 'glammarye 'Q
With him in Melrose Abbey sleepingB
His charmed torch beside his kneeR
That even the dead himself might seeR
The magic scroll within his keepingB
And now our modern Yankee seesJ
Nor omens spells nor mysteriesJ
And naught above below aroundS
Of life or death of sight or soundS
Whate'er its nature form or lookB
Excites his terror or surpriseJ
All seeming to his knowing eyesJ
Familiar as his 'catechise 'Q
Or 'Webster's Spelling Book 'Q

John Greenleaf Whittier



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