To James T. Fields Poem Rhyme Scheme

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On a blank leaf of poems printed not published	A
	-
	-
Well thought who would not rather hear	B
The songs to Love and Friendship sung	C
Than those which move the stranger's tongue	C
And feed his unselected ear	B
	-
Our social joys are more than fame	D
Life withers in the public look	E
Why mount the pillory of a book	E
Or barter comfort for a name	D
	-
Who in a house of glass would dwell	F
With curious eyes at every pane	G
To ring him in and out again	H
Who wants the public crier's bell	F
	-
To see the angel in one's way	I
Who wants to play the ass's part	J
Bear on his back the wizard Art	J
And in his service speak or bray	I
	-
And who his manly locks would shave	K
And quench the eyes of common sense	L
To share the noisy recompense	L
That mocked the shorn and blinded slave	K
	-
The heart has needs beyond the head	M
And starving in the plenitude	M
Of strange gifts craves its common food	M
Our human nature's daily bread	M
	-
We are but men no gods are we	N
To sit in mid heaven cold and bleak	O
Each separate on his painful peak	O
Thin cloaked in self complacency	N
	-
Better his lot whose axe is swung	C
In Wartburg woods or that poor girl's	P
Who by the him her spindle whirls	P
And sings the songs that Luther sung	C
	-
Than his who old and cold and vain	G
At Weimar sat a demigod	M
And bowed with Jove's imperial nod	M
His votaries in and out again	H
	-
Ply Vanity thy winged feet	M
Ambition hew thy rocky stair	Q
Who envies him who feeds on air	Q
The icy splendor of his seat	M
	-
I see your Alps above me cut	M
The dark cold sky and dim and lone	R
I see ye sitting stone on stone	R
With human senses dulled and shut	M
	-
I could not reach you if I would	M
Nor sit among your cloudy shapes	P
And spare the fable of the grapes	P
And fox I would not if I could	M
	-
Keep to your lofty pedestals	P
The safer plain below I choose	P
Who never wins can rarely lose	P
Who never climbs as rarely falls	P
	-
Let such as love the eagle's scream	S
Divide with him his home of ice	P
For me shall gentler notes suffice	P
The valley song of bird and stream	S
	-
The pastoral bleat the drone of bees	P
The flail beat chiming far away	I
The cattle low at shut of day	I
The voice of God in leaf and breeze	P
	-
Then lend thy hand my wiser friend	M
And help me to the vales below	T
In truth I have not far to go	T
Where sweet with flowers the fields extend	M

John Greenleaf Whittier

To James T. Fields Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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