Fragments Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCBCDEDEFFGGHHIAIA A JKKJLMLMNONOPQRQSTST A SMSUVWXWAYAY EAEHHZHZA2FA2F B2 B2M

IA
-
Tuscara thou art lovely nowB
Thy woods that frown'd in sullen strengthC
Like plumage on a giant's browB
Have bowed their massy pride at lengthC
The rustling maize is green aroundD
The sheep is in the Congar's bedE
And clear the ploughman's whistlings soundD
Where war whoop's pealed o'er mangled deadE
Fair cots around thy breast are setF
Like pearls upon a coronetF
And in Aluga's vale belowG
The gilded grain is moving slowG
Like yellow moonlight on the seaH
Where waves are swelling peacefullyH
As beauty's breast when quiet dreamsI
Come tranquilly and gently byA
When all she loves and hopes for seemsI
To float in smiles before her eyeA
-
IIA
-
And hast thou lost the grandeur rudeJ
That made me breathless when at firstK
Upon my infant sight you burstK
The monarch of the solitudeJ
No there is yet thy turret rockL
The watch tower of the skies the lairM
Of Indian Gods who in the shockL
Of bursting thunders slumbered thereM
And trim thy bosom is arrayedN
In labour's green and glittering vestO
And yet thy forest locks of shadeN
Shake stormy on that turret crestO
Still hast thou left the rocks the floodsP
And nature is the loveliest thenQ
When first amid her caves and woodsR
She feels the busy tread of menQ
When every tree and bush and flowerS
Springs wildly in its native graceT
Ere art exerts her boasted powerS
That brightened only to defaceT
-
IIIA
-
Yes thou art lovelier now than everS
How sweet 'twould be when all the airM
In moonlight swims along thy riverS
To couch upon the grass and hearU
Niagara's everlasting voiceV
Far in the deep blue west awayW
That dreaming and poetic noiseX
We mark not in the glare of dayW
Oh how unlike its torrent cryA
When o'er the brink the tide is drivenY
As if the vast and sheeted skyA
In thunder fell from heavenY
-
IV-
-
Were I but there the daylight fledE
With that smooth air the stream the skyA
And lying on that minstrel bedE
Of nature's own embroideryH
With those long tearful willows o'er meH
That weeping fount that solemn lightZ
With scenes of sighing tales before meH
And one green maiden grave in sightZ
How mournfully the strain would riseA2
Of that true maid whose fate can yetF
Draw rainy tears from stubborn eyesA2
From lids that ne'er before were wetF
She lies not here but that green grave-
Is sacred from the plough and flowersB2
Snow drops and valley lilies wave-
Amid the grass and other showersB2
Than those of heaven have fallen thereM

Joseph Rodman Drake



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