Canticle Of The Babe Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A ABCDEFEAFEEA GHGIIIH A GEJGJKKLLMMEEEE A NONOPOP O QRGFFRG O ASGASGTSUVSSTVUSWNNW A SJSJEEWEEWWOOEEKKJJF FUU XXFF EEEESSYYSSS SSHHZEZEA2B2B2XC2X EE

IA
-
Over the broken world the dark gone byA
Horror of outcast darkness torn with warsB
And timeless agonyC
Of the white fire heaped high by blinded StarsD
Unfaltering unaghastE
Out of the midmost FireF
At last at lastE
CryA
O darkness' one desireF
O darkness have you heardE
Black Chaos blindly striving towards the WordE
The CryA
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Behold thy conqueror DeathG
Behold behold from whomH
It flutters forth that triumph of First BreathG
Victorious one that can but breathe and clingI
This pulsing flower this weaker than a wingI
Halcyon thingI
Cradled above unfathomable doomH
-
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IIA
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Under my feet O DeathG
Under my trembling feetE
Back through the gates of hell now give me wayJ
I come I bring new BreathG
Over the trampled shards of mine own clayJ
That smoulder still and burnK
Lo I returnK
Hail singing Light that floatsL
Pulsing with chorused motesL
Hail to thee Sun that lookest on all landsM
And take thou from my weak undying handsM
A precious thing unblemished undefiledE
Here on my heart upliftE
Behold the GiftE
Thy glory and my glory and my childE
-
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IIIA
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And our eyes were opened eyes that had been holdenN
And I saw the world and the fruits thereofO
And I saw their glories scarlet stained and goldenN
All a crumbled dust beneath the feet of LoveO
And I saw their dreams all of nothing worthP
But a path for Love for Him to walk aboveO
And I saw new heaven and new earthP
-
-
IVO
-
The grass is full of murmursQ
The sky is full of wingsR
The earth is full of breathG
With voices choir on choirF
With tongues of fireF
They sing how Life out singsR
Out numbers DeathG
-
-
VO
-
Who are these that flyA
As doves and as doves to the windowsS
Doves like hovering dreams round Love that slumberethG
Silvering clouds blown byA
Doves and doves to the windowsS
Warm through the radiant sky their wings beat breathG
They are the world's new bornT
Doves doves to the windowsS
Lighting as flakes of snowU
Lighting as flakes of flameV
Some to the fair sown furrowsS
Some to the huts and burrowsS
Choked of the mire and thornT
Deep in the city's shameV
Wind scattered wreaths they goU
Doves and doves to the windowsS
Some for worshipping arms to shelter and fold and shrineW
Some to be torn and troddenN
Withered and waste and soddenN
Pitiful sacred leaves from Life's dishonored vineW
-
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VIA
-
O Vine of Life that in these reaching fingersS
Urges a sunward wayJ
Hold here and climb and halt not that there lingersS
So far outstripped my halting wistful clayJ
Make here thy foothold of my rapturous heartE
Yea though the tendrils startE
To hold and twineW
I am the heart that nursedE
Thy sunward thirstE
A little while a little while O VineW
My own and never mineW
Feed thy sweet roots with meO
AbundantlyO
O wonder wildness of the pushing BudE
With hunger at the floodE
Climb on and seek and spurnK
Let my dull spirit learnK
To follow with its longing as it mayJ
While thou seek higher dayJ
But thou the reach of my own heart's desireF
Be free as fireF
Still climb and cling and soU
Outstrip outgrowU
-
O Vine of Life my own and not my ownX
So far am I outgrownX
High as I may I lift thee Soul's DesireF
Lift thou me higherF
-
-
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And thou Wayfaring Woman whom I meetE
On all the highways every brimming streetE
Lady Demeter is it thou grown gauntE
With work and wantE
At last and with what shamed and stricken eyesS
I see through thy disguiseS
Of drudge and Exile even the holy boonY
That silvers yonder in the Harvest moonY
That dimly under glowsS
The furrows of thy worn immortal faceS
With mother graceS
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O Queen and Burden bearer what of thoseS
To whom thou gavest the lily and the roseS
Of thy far youth For whomH
Out of the wondrous loomH
Of thine enduring body thou didst makeZ
Garments of beauty cunningly adornedE
But only for Death's sakeZ
Largess of life but to lie waste and scornedE
Could not such cost of painA2
Nor daily utmost of thy toil prevailB2
But they must fade and paleB2
And wither from thy desolated throneX
And still no Summer give thee back againC2
Thine ownX
-
Lady of Sorrows Mother Drudge augustE
Behold me in the dustE

Josephine Preston Peabody



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