Resignation Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEEFFGGHHIIFJFBAK K LLMMNNOOPPOOQQRSTT OOUUVVWLOOGGXXOOYYOO ZZIIOOYYUUOOYYA2A2B2 B2AAOOIILL OOWLOOB2B2LLLLBBOOC2 C2LLOO LLYYYYD2D2YYE2E2BAYY OOF2F2A2A2G2G2YYOOUH 2OOI2I2OO OOI2I2OOYYLLOOOOYYLL OOB2B2YYJ2J2K2K2YYOO RRC2C2B2B2L2L2OOYYYL LYYOOAALL LLM2M2I2I2LLUH2OOOO N2O2P2P2OOQ2Q2I2I2OO LLR2R2 YYS2S2LLYYOOLLOOLLOO T2A2U2U2OOLLYYOO U2U2K2K2OOLLYYUUUUOO OO| To die be given us or attain | A |
| Fierce work it were to do again | B |
| So pilgrims bound for Mecca pray'd | C |
| At burning noon so warriors said | D |
| Scarf'd with the cross who watch'd the miles | E |
| Of dust that wreath'd their struggling files | E |
| Down Lydian mountains so when snows | F |
| Round Alpine summits eddying rose | F |
| The Goth bound Rome wards so the Hun | G |
| Crouch'd on his saddle when the sun | G |
| Went lurid down o'er flooded plains | H |
| Through which the groaning Danube strains | H |
| To the drear Euxine so pray all | I |
| Whom labours self ordain'd enthrall | I |
| Because they to themselves propose | F |
| On this side the all common close | J |
| A goal which gain'd may give repose | F |
| So pray they and to stand again | B |
| Where they stood once to them were pain | A |
| Pain to thread back and to renew | K |
| Past straits and currents long steer'd through | K |
| - | |
| But milder natures and more free | L |
| Whom an unblam'd serenity | L |
| Hath freed from passions and the state | M |
| Of struggle these necessitate | M |
| Whom schooling of the stubborn mind | N |
| Hath made or birth hath found resign'd | N |
| These mourn not that their goings pay | O |
| Obedience to the passing day | O |
| These claim not every laughing Hour | P |
| For handmaid to their striding power | P |
| Each in her turn with torch uprear'd | O |
| To await their march and when appear'd | O |
| Through the cold gloom with measur'd race | Q |
| To usher for a destin'd space | Q |
| Her own sweet errands all foregone | R |
| The too imperious Traveller on | S |
| These Fausta ask not this nor thou | T |
| Time's chafing prisoner ask it now | T |
| - | |
| We left just ten years since you say | O |
| That wayside inn we left to day | O |
| Our jovial host as forth we fare | U |
| Shouts greeting from his easy chair | U |
| High on a bank our leader stands | V |
| Reviews and ranks his motley hands | V |
| Makes clear our goal to every eye | W |
| The valley's western boundary | L |
| A gate swings to our tide hath flow'd | O |
| Already from the silent road | O |
| The valley pastures one by one | G |
| Are threaded quiet in the sun | G |
| And now beyond the rude stone bridge | X |
| Slopes gracious up the western ridge | X |
| Its woody border and the last | O |
| Of its dark upland farms is past | O |
| Cool farms with open lying stores | Y |
| Under their burnish'd sycamores | Y |
| All past and through the trees we glide | O |
| Emerging on the green hill side | O |
| There climbing hangs a far seen sign | Z |
| Our wavering many colour'd line | Z |
| There winds upstreaming slowly still | I |
| Over the summit of the hill | I |
| And now in front behold outspread | O |
| Those upper regions we must tread | O |
| Mild hollows and clear heathy swells | Y |
| The cheerful silence of the fells | Y |
| Some two hours' march with serious air | U |
| Through the deep noontide heats we fare | U |
| The red grouse springing at our sound | O |
| Skims now and then the shining ground | O |
| No life save his and ours intrudes | Y |
| Upon these breathless solitudes | Y |
| O joy again the farms appear | A2 |
| Cool shade is there and rustic cheer | A2 |
| There springs the brook will guide us down | B2 |
| Bright comrade to the noisy town | B2 |
| Lingering we follow down we gain | A |
| The town the highway and the plain | A |
| And many a mile of dusty way | O |
| Parch'd and road worn we made that day | O |
| But Fausta I remember well | I |
| That as the balmy darkness fell | I |
| We bath'd our hands with speechless glee | L |
| That night in the wide glimmering Sea | L |
| - | |
| Once more we tread this self same road | O |
| Fausta which ten years since we trod | O |
| Alone we tread it you and I | W |
| Ghosts of that boisterous company | L |
| Here where the brook shines near its head | O |
| In its clear shallow turf fring'd bed | O |
| Here whence the eye first sees far down | B2 |
| Capp'd with faint smoke the noisy town | B2 |
| Here sit we and again unroll | L |
| Though slowly the familiar whole | L |
| The solemn wastes of heathy hill | L |
| Sleep in the July sunshine still | L |
| The self same shadows now as then | B |
| Play through this grassy upland glen | B |
| The loose dark stones on the green way | O |
| Lie strewn it seems where then they lay | O |
| On this mild bank above the stream | C2 |
| You crush them the blue gentians gleam | C2 |
| Still this wild brook the rushes cool | L |
| The sailing foam the shining pool | L |
| These are not chang'd and we you say | O |
| Are scarce more chang'd in truth than they | O |
| - | |
| The Gipsies whom we met below | L |
| They too have long roam'd to and fro | L |
| They ramble leaving where they pass | Y |
| Their fragments on the cumber'd grass | Y |
| And often to some kindly place | Y |
| Chance guides the migratory race | Y |
| Where though long wanderings intervene | D2 |
| They recognize a former scene | D2 |
| The dingy tents are pitch'd the fires | Y |
| Give to the wind their wavering spires | Y |
| In dark knots crouch round the wild flame | E2 |
| Their children as when first they came | E2 |
| They see their shackled beasts again | B |
| Move browsing up the grey wall'd lane | A |
| Signs are not wanting which might raise | Y |
| The ghosts in them of former days | Y |
| Signs are not wanting if they would | O |
| Suggestions to disquietude | O |
| For them for all Time's busy touch | F2 |
| While it mends little troubles much | F2 |
| Their joints grow stiffer but the year | A2 |
| Runs his old round of dubious cheer | A2 |
| Chilly they grow yet winds in March | G2 |
| Still sharp as ever freeze and parch | G2 |
| They must live still and yet God knows | Y |
| Crowded and keen the country grows | Y |
| It seems as if in their decay | O |
| The Law grew stronger every day | O |
| So might they reason so compare | U |
| Fausta times past with times that are | H2 |
| But no they rubb'd through yesterday | O |
| In their hereditary way | O |
| And they will rub through if they can | I2 |
| To morrow on the self same plan | I2 |
| Till death arrives to supersede | O |
| For them vicissitude and need | O |
| - | |
| The Poet to whose mighty heart | O |
| Heaven doth a quicker pulse impart | O |
| Subdues that energy to scan | I2 |
| Not his own course but that of Man | I2 |
| Though he move mountains though his day | O |
| Be pass'd on the proud heights of sway | O |
| Though he hath loos'd a thousand chains | Y |
| Though he hath borne immortal pains | Y |
| Action and suffering though he know | L |
| He hath not liv'd if he lives so | L |
| He sees in some great historied land | O |
| A ruler of the people stand | O |
| Sees his strong thought in fiery flood | O |
| Roll through the heaving multitude | O |
| Exults yet for no moment's space | Y |
| Envies the all regarded place | Y |
| Beautiful eyes meet his and he | L |
| Bears to admire uncravingly | L |
| They pass he mingled with the crowd | O |
| Is in their far off triumphs proud | O |
| From some high station he looks down | B2 |
| At sunset on a populous town | B2 |
| Surveys each happy group that fleets | Y |
| Toil ended through the shining streets | Y |
| Each with some errand of its own | J2 |
| And does not say I am alone | J2 |
| He sees the gentle stir of birth | K2 |
| When Morning purifies the earth | K2 |
| He leans upon a gate and sees | Y |
| The pastures and the quiet trees | Y |
| Low woody hill with gracious bound | O |
| Folds the still valley almost round | O |
| The cuckoo loud on some high lawn | R |
| Is answer'd from the depth of dawn | R |
| In the hedge straggling to the stream | C2 |
| Pale dew drench'd half shut roses gleam | C2 |
| But where the further side slopes down | B2 |
| He sees the drowsy new wak'd clown | B2 |
| In his white quaint embroider'd frock | L2 |
| Make whistling towards his mist wreath'd flock | L2 |
| Slowly behind the heavy tread | O |
| The wet flower'd grass heaves up its head | O |
| Lean'd on his gate he gazes tears | Y |
| Are in his eyes and in his ears | Y |
| The murmur of a thousand years | Y |
| Before him he sees Life unroll | L |
| A placid and continuous whole | L |
| That general Life which does not cease | Y |
| Whose secret is not joy but peace | Y |
| That Life whose dumb wish is not miss'd | O |
| If birth proceeds if things subsist | O |
| The Life of plants and stones and rain | A |
| The Life he craves if not in vain | A |
| Fate gave what Chance shall not control | L |
| His sad lucidity of soul | L |
| - | |
| You listen but that wandering smile | L |
| Fausta betrays you cold the while | L |
| Your eves pursue the bells of foam | M2 |
| Wash'd eddying from this bank their home | M2 |
| Those Gipsies so your thoughts I scan | I2 |
| Are less the Poet more than man | I2 |
| They feel not though they move and see | L |
| Deeply the Poet feels but he | L |
| Breathes when he will immortal air | U |
| Where Orpheus and where Homer are | H2 |
| In the day's life whose iron round | O |
| Hems us all in he is not bound | O |
| He escapes thence but we abide | O |
| Not deep the Poet sees but wide | O |
| - | |
| The World in which we live and move | N2 |
| Outlasts aversion outlasts love | O2 |
| Outlasts each effort interest hope | P2 |
| Remorse grief joy and were the scope | P2 |
| Of these affections wider made | O |
| Man still would see and see dismay'd | O |
| Beyond his passion's widest range | Q2 |
| Far regions of eternal change | Q2 |
| Nay and since death which wipes out man | I2 |
| Finds him with many an unsolv'd plan | I2 |
| With much unknown and much untried | O |
| Wonder not dead and thirst not dried | O |
| Still gazing on the ever full | L |
| Eternal mundane spectacle | L |
| This World in which we draw our breath | R2 |
| In some sense Fausta outlasts death | R2 |
| - | |
| Blame thou not therefore him who dares | Y |
| Judge vain beforehand human cares | Y |
| Whose natural insight can discern | S2 |
| What through experience others learn | S2 |
| Who needs not love and power to know | L |
| Love transient power an unreal show | L |
| Who treads at ease life's uncheer'd ways | Y |
| Him blame not Fausta rather praise | Y |
| Rather thyself for some aim pray | O |
| Nobler than this to fill the day | O |
| Rather that heart which burns in thee | L |
| Ask not to amuse but to set free | L |
| Be passionate hopes not ill resign'd | O |
| For quiet and a fearless mind | O |
| And though Fate grudge to thee and me | L |
| The Poet's rapt security | L |
| Yet they believe me who await | O |
| No gifts from Chance have conquer'd Fate | O |
| They winning room to see and hear | T2 |
| And to men's business not too near | A2 |
| Through clouds of individual strife | U2 |
| Draw homewards to the general Life | U2 |
| Like leaves by suns not yet uncurl'd | O |
| To the wise foolish to the world | O |
| Weak yet not weak I might reply | L |
| Not foolish Fausta in His eye | L |
| To whom each moment in its race | Y |
| Crowd as we will its neutral space | Y |
| Is but a quiet watershed | O |
| Whence equally the Seas of Life and Death are fed | O |
| - | |
| Enough we live and if a life | U2 |
| With large results so little rife | U2 |
| Though bearable seen hardly worth | K2 |
| This pomp of worlds this pain of birth | K2 |
| Yet Fausta the mute turf we tread | O |
| The solemn hills around us spread | O |
| This stream that falls incessantly | L |
| The strange scrawl'd rocks the lonely sky | L |
| If I might lend their life a voice | Y |
| Seem to bear rather than rejoice | Y |
| And even could the intemperate prayer | U |
| Man iterates while these forbear | U |
| For movement for an ampler sphere | U |
| Pierce Fate's impenetrable ear | U |
| Not milder is the general lot | O |
| Because our spirits have forgot | O |
| In action's dizzying eddy whirl'd | O |
| The something that infects the world | O |
Matthew Arnold
(1)
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