Questionings Poem Rhyme Scheme

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I touch but the things which are near	A
The heavens are too high for my reach	B
In shadow and symbol and creed	C
I discern not the soul from the deed	C
Nor the thought hidden under from speech	B
And the thing which I know not I fear	A
	-
I dare not despair nor despond	C
Though I grope in the dark for the dawn	D
Birth and laughter and bubbles of breath	E
And tears and the blank void of death	E
Round each its penumbra is drawn	D
I touch them I see not beyond	C
	-
What voice speaking solemn and slow	F
Before the beginning for me	G
From the mouth of the primal First Cause	H
Shall teach me the thing that I was	H
Shall point out the thing I shall be	G
And show me the path that I go	F
	-
Were there any that missed me or sought	C
In the cycles and centuries fled	C
Ere my soul had a place among men	I
Even so unremembered again	I
I shall lie in the dust with the dead	C
And my name shall be heard not nor thought	C
	-
Yea rather from out the abyss	J
Where the stars sit in silence and light	C
When the ashes and dust of our world	C
Are like leaves in their faces up whirled	C
What orb shall look down through the night	C
And take note of the quenching of this	J
	-
Yea beyond in the heavens of space	K
Where Jehovah sits absolute Lord	C
Who made out of nothing the whole	L
Round world and man's sentient soul	L
Will He crush like a creature abhorred	C
What He fashioned with infinite grace	K
	-
In His own awful image and made	C
Quick with the flame of His breath	E
Which He saw and behold it was good	C
Ah man thou hast waded through blood	C
And crime down to darkness and death	E
Since thou stood'st before Him unafraid	C
	-
My life falls away like a flower	M
Day by day dispersed of the wind	C
Its vague perfume nor taketh it root	C
Ripening seeds for the sower or fruit	C
To make me at one with my kind	C
And give me my work and my hour	M
	-
No creed for my hunger sufficed	C
Though I clung to them each after other	M
They slipped from my passionate hold	C
The prophets the martyrs of old	C
Thy pitying face Mary Mother	M
Thy thorn circled forehead O Christ	C
	-
Pilgrim sandalled the deserts have known	N
The track of my wandering feet	C
Where dead saints and martyrs have trod	C
To search for the pure faith of God	C
Making life with its bitterness sweet	C
And death the white gate to a throne	N
	-
O Thou who the wine press hast trod	C
O sorrowful stricken betrayed	C
Thy cross o'er my spirit prevails	O
In Thy hands with the print of the nails	O
My life with its burdens is laid	C
O Christ Thou art sole Thou art God	C

Kate Seymour Maclean

Questionings Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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