Third Sunday In Lent Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCC DEDEFF GHGHII JKLMNN OPOPII AQAQRR STSTUU VVVVAA WXWXCC YZA2B2GG| When a strong man armed keepeth his place his goods are in | A |
| peace but when a stronger than he shall come upon him and | B |
| overcome him he taketh from him all his armour wherein he | C |
| trusted and divideth his spoils St Luke xi | C |
| - | |
| - | |
| See Lucifer like lightning fall | D |
| Dashed from his throne of pride | E |
| While answering Thy victorious call | D |
| The Saints his spoils divide | E |
| This world of Thine by him usurped too long | F |
| Now opening all her stores to heal Thy servants' wrong | F |
| - | |
| So when the first born of Thy foes | G |
| Dead in the darkness lay | H |
| When Thy redeemed at midnight rose | G |
| And cast their bonds away | H |
| The orphaned realm threw wide her gates and told | I |
| Into freed Israel's lap her jewels and her gold | I |
| - | |
| And when their wondrous march was o'er | J |
| And they had won their homes | K |
| Where Abraham fed his flock of yore | L |
| Among their fathers' tombs | M |
| A land that drinks the rain of Heaven at will | N |
| Whose waters kiss the feet of many a vine clad hill | N |
| - | |
| Oft as they watched at thoughtful eve | O |
| A gale from bowers of balm | P |
| Sweep o'er the billowy corn and heave | O |
| The tresses of the palm | P |
| Just as the lingering Sun had touched with gold | I |
| Far o'er the cedar shade some tower of giants old | I |
| - | |
| It was a fearful joy I ween | A |
| To trace the Heathen's toil | Q |
| The limpid wells the orchards green | A |
| Left ready for the spoil | Q |
| The household stores untouched the roses bright | R |
| Wreathed o'er the cottage walls in garlands of delight | R |
| - | |
| And now another Canaan yields | S |
| To Thine all conquering ark | T |
| Fly from the old poetic fields | S |
| Ye Paynim shadows dark | T |
| Immortal Greece dear land of glorious lays | U |
| Lo here the unknown God of thy unconscious praise | U |
| - | |
| The olive wreath the ivied wand | V |
| The sword in myrtles drest | V |
| Each legend of the shadowy strand | V |
| Now wakes a vision blest | V |
| As little children lisp and tell of Heaven | A |
| So thoughts beyond their thought to those high Bards were given | A |
| - | |
| And these are ours Thy partial grace | W |
| The tempting treasure lends | X |
| These relies of a guilty race | W |
| Are forfeit to Thy friends | X |
| What seemed an idol hymn now breathes of Thee | C |
| Tuned by Faith's ear to some celestial melody | C |
| - | |
| There's not a strain to Memory dear | Y |
| Nor flower in classic grove | Z |
| There's not a sweet note warbled here | A2 |
| But minds us of Thy Love | B2 |
| O Lord our Lord and spoiler of our foes | G |
| There is no light but Thine with Thee all beauty glows | G |
John Keble
(1)
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