The Countess Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BBCDEEFFGGHIJKLLMMNO PPQRSSTTTUUVVWWXXYYZ ZZA2A2B2B2SS C2D2C2D2 E2F2E2G2 H2I2H2I2 J2I2J2I2 I2QI2Q ZK2ZK2 L2M2L2M2 B2TB2T N2O2N2O2 P2Q2P2Q2 R2S2R2S2 T2U2T2V2 W2X2W2X2 Y2Z2Y2Z2 A3SA3S FS2FS2 SSSS SB3SB3 C3X2C3X2 SSSS SX2SX2 D3X2D3X2 A3I2E3I2 VF3VG3 I2T2I2T2 C3SC3S H3X2H3X2 I2T2I2T2 I3X2I3X2 X2I2X2J3 X2SX2S K3EK3E

TO E WA
-
I KNOW not Time and Space so interveneB
Whether still waiting with a trust sereneB
Thou bearest up thy fourscore years and tenC
Or called at last art now Heaven's citizenD
But here or there a pleasant thought of theeE
Like an old friend all day has been with meE
The shy still boy for whom thy kindly handF
Smoothed his hard pathway to the wonder landF
Of thought and fancy in gray manhood yetG
Keeps green the memory of his early debtG
To day when truth and falsehood speak their wordsH
Through hot lipped cannon and the teeth of swordsI
Listening with quickened heart and ear intentJ
To each sharp clause of that stern argumentK
I still can hear at times a softer noteL
Of the old pastoral music round me floatL
While through the hot gleam of our civil strifeM
Looms the green mirage of a simpler lifeM
As at his alien post the sentinelN
Drops the old bucket in the homestead wellO
And hears old voices in the winds that tossP
Above his head the live oak's beard of mossP
So in our trial time and under skiesQ
Shadowed by swords like Islam's paradiseR
I wait and watch and let my fancy strayS
To milder scenes and youth's Arcadian dayS
And howsoe'er the pencil dipped in dreamsT
Shades the brown woods or tints the sunset streamsT
The country doctor in the foreground seemsT
Whose ancient sulky down the village lanesU
Dragged like a war car captive ills and painsU
I could not paint the scenery of my songV
Mindless of one who looked thereon so longV
Who night and day on duty's lonely roundW
Made friends o' the woods and rocks and knew the soundW
Of each small brook and what the hillside treesX
Said to the winds that touched their leafy keysX
Who saw so keenly and so well could paintY
The village folk with all their humors quaintY
The parson ambling on his wall eyed roanZ
Grave and erect with white hair backward blownZ
The tough old boatman half amphibious grownZ
The muttering witch wife of the gossip's taleA2
And the loud straggler levying his blackmailA2
Old customs habits superstitions fearsB2
All that lies buried under fifty yearsB2
To thee as is most fit I bring my layS
And grateful own the debt I cannot payS
-
-
-
Over the wooded northern ridgeC2
Between its houses brownD2
To the dark tunnel of the bridgeC2
The street comes straggling downD2
-
You catch a glimpse through birch and pineE2
Of gable roof and porchF2
The tavern with its swinging signE2
The sharp horn of the churchG2
-
The river's steel blue crescent curvesH2
To meet in ebb and flowI2
The single broken wharf that servesH2
For sloop and gundelowI2
-
With salt sea scents along its shoresJ2
The heavy hay boats crawlI2
The long antennae of their oarsJ2
In lazy rise and fallI2
-
Along the gray abutment's wallI2
The idle shad net driesQ
The toll man in his cobbler's stallI2
Sits smoking with closed eyesQ
-
You hear the pier's low undertoneZ
Of waves that chafe and gnawK2
You start a skipper's horn is blownZ
To raise the creaking drawK2
-
At times a blacksmith's anvil soundsL2
With slow and sluggard beatM2
Or stage coach on its dusty roundsL2
Fakes up the staring streetM2
-
A place for idle eyes and earsB2
A cobwebbed nook of dreamsT
Left by the stream whose waves are yearsB2
The stranded village seemsT
-
And there like other moss and rustN2
The native dweller clingsO2
And keeps in uninquiring trustN2
The old dull round of thingsO2
-
The fisher drops his patient linesP2
The farmer sows his grainQ2
Content to hear the murmuring pinesP2
Instead of railroad trainQ2
-
Go where along the tangled steepR2
That slopes against the westS2
The hamlet's buried idlers sleepR2
In still profounder restS2
-
Throw back the locust's flowery plumeT2
The birch's pale green scarfU2
And break the web of brier and bloomT2
From name and epitaphV2
-
A simple muster roll of deathW2
Of pomp and romance shornX2
The dry old names that common breathW2
Has cheapened and outwornX2
-
Yet pause by one low mound and partY2
The wild vines o'er it lacedZ2
And read the words by rustic artY2
Upon its headstone tracedZ2
-
Haply yon white haired villagerA3
Of fourscore years can sayS
What means the noble name of herA3
Who sleeps with common clayS
-
An exile from the Gascon landF
Found refuge here and restS2
And loved of all the village bandF
Its fairest and its bestS2
-
He knelt with her on Sabbath mornsS
He worshipped through her eyesS
And on the pride that doubts and scornsS
Stole in her faith's surpriseS
-
Her simple daily life he sawS
By homeliest duties triedB3
In all things by an untaught lawS
Of fitness justifiedB3
-
For her his rank aside he laidC3
He took the hue and toneX2
Of lowly life and toil and madeC3
Her simple ways his ownX2
-
Yet still in gay and careless easeS
To harvest field or danceS
He brought the gentle courtesiesS
The nameless grace of FranceS
-
And she who taught him love not lessS
From him she loved in turnX2
Caught in her sweet unconsciousnessS
What love is quick to learnX2
-
Each grew to each in pleased accordD3
Nor knew the gazing townX2
If she looked upward to her lordD3
Or he to her looked downX2
-
How sweet when summer's day was o'erA3
His violin's mirth and wailI2
The walk on pleasant Newbury's shoreE3
The river's moonlit sailI2
-
Ah life is brief though love be longV
The altar and the bierF3
The burial hymn and bridal songV
Were both in one short yearG3
-
Her rest is quiet on the hillI2
Beneath the locust's bloomT2
Far off her lover sleeps as stillI2
Within his scutcheoned tombT2
-
The Gascon lord the village maidC3
In death still clasp their handsS
The love that levels rank and gradeC3
Unites their severed landsS
-
What matter whose the hillside graveH3
Or whose the blazoned stoneX2
Forever to her western waveH3
Shall whisper blue GaronneX2
-
O Love so hallowing every soilI2
That gives thy sweet flower roomT2
Wherever nursed by ease or toilI2
The human heart takes bloomT2
-
Plant of lost Eden from the sodI3
Of sinful earth unrivenX2
White blossom of the trees of GodI3
Dropped down to us from heavenX2
-
This tangled waste of mound and stoneX2
Is holy for thy saleI2
A sweetness which is all thy ownX2
Breathes out from fern and brakeJ3
-
And while ancestral pride shall twineX2
The Gascon's tomb with flowersS
Fall sweetly here O song of mineX2
With summer's bloom and showersS
-
And let the lines that severed seemK3
Unite again in theeE
As western wave and Gallic streamK3
Are mingled in one seaE

John Greenleaf Whittier



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