Thyrsis A Monody Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBCADEED FGHGIJKIIK LMNMNLMOOP QRSRSTSSSS SIUIUSSSSS VMSWSVXIIX YPZA2ZYB2IIB2 C2D2ID2ID2ISSI D2SYSYD2SE2E2S ID2ID2IID2SSD2 IMF2MF2IIIII XSISIXG2H2H2G2 WI2IJ2IWZIIZ SSSSWSD2SSD2 SK2WK2WSL2IIL2 ISM2SN2IK2

How changed is here each spot man makes or fillsA
In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the sameB
The village street its haunted mansion lacksC
And from the sign is gone Sibylla's nameB
And from the roofs the twisted chimney stacksC
Are ye too changed ye hillsA
See 'tis no foot of unfamiliar menD
To night from Oxford up your pathway straysE
Here came I often often in old daysE
Thyrsis and I we still had Thyrsis thenD
-
Runs it not here the track by Childsworth FarmF
Past the high wood to where the elm tree crownsG
The hill behind whose ridge the sunset flamesH
The signal elm that looks on Ilsley DownsG
The Vale the three lone weirs the youthful ThamesI
This winter eve is warmJ
Humid the air leafless yet soft as springK
The tender purple spray on copse and briersI
And that sweet city with her dreaming spiresI
She needs not June for beauty's heighteningK
-
Lovely all times she lies lovely to nightL
Only methinks some loss of habit's powerM
Befalls me wandering through this upland dimN
Once pass'd I blindfold here at any hourM
Now seldom come I since I came with himN
That single elm tree brightL
Against the west I miss it is it gonerM
We prized it dearly while it stood we saidO
Our friend the Gipsy Scholar was not deadO
While the tree lived he in these fields lived onP
-
Too rare too rare grow now my visits hereQ
But once I knew each field each flower each stickR
And with the country folk acquaintance madeS
By barn in threshing time by new built rickR
Here too our shepherd pipes we first assay'dS
Ah me this many a yearT
My pipe is lost my shepherd's holidayS
Needs must I lose them needs with heavy heartS
Into the world and wave of men departS
But Thyrsis of his own will went awayS
-
It irk'd him to be here he could not restS
He loved each simple joy the country yieldsI
He loved his mates but yet he could not keepU
For that a shadow lour'd on the fieldsI
Here with the shepherds and the silly sheepU
Some life of men unblestS
He knew which made him droop and fill'd his headS
He went his piping took a troubled soundS
Of storms that rage outside our happy groundS
He could not wait their passing he is deadS
-
So some tempestuous morn in early JuneV
When the year's primal burst of bloom is o'erM
Before the roses and the longest dayS
When garden walks and all the grassy floorW
With blossoms red and white of fallen MayS
And chestnut flowers are strewnV
So have I heard the cuckoo's parting cryX
From the wet field through the vext garden treesI
Come with the volleying rain and tossing breezeI
The bloom is gone and with the bloom go IX
-
Too quick despairer wherefore wilt thou goY
Soon will the high Midsummer pomps come onP
Soon will the musk carnations break and swellZ
Soon shall we have gold dusted snapdragonA2
Sweet William with his homely cottage smellZ
And stocks in fragrant blowY
Roses that down the alleys shine afarB2
And open jasmine muffled latticesI
And groups under the dreaming garden treesI
And the full moon and the white evening starB2
-
He hearkens not light comer he is flownC2
What matters it next year he will returnD2
And we shall have him in the sweet spring daysI
With whitening hedges and uncrumpling fernD2
And blue bells trembling by the forest waysI
And scent of hay new mownD2
But Thyrsis never more we swains shall seeI
See him come back and cut a smoother reedS
And blow a strain the world at last shall heedS
For Time not Corydon hath conquer'd theeI
-
Alack for Corydon no rival nowD2
But when Sicilian shepherds lost a mateS
Some good survivor with his flute would goY
Piping a ditty sad for Bion's fateS
And cross the unpermitted ferry's flowY
And relax Pluto's browD2
And make leap up with joy the beauteous headS
Of Proserpine among whose crowned hairE2
Are flowers first open'd on Sicilian airE2
And flute his friend like Orpheus from the deadS
-
O easy access to the hearer's graceI
When Dorian shepherds sang to ProserpineD2
For she herself had trod Sicilian fieldsI
She knew the Dorian water's gush divineD2
She knew each lily white which Enna yieldsI
Each rose with blushing faceI
She loved the Dorian pipe the Dorian strainD2
But ah of our poor Thames she never heardS
Her foot the Cumner cowslips never stirr'dS
And we should tease her with our plaint in vainD2
-
Well wind dispersed and vain the words will beI
Yet Thyrsis let me give my grief its hourM
In the old haunt and find our tree topp'd hillF2
Who if not I for questing here hath powerM
I know the wood which hides the daffodilF2
I know the Fyfield treeI
I know what white what purple fritillariesI
The grassy harvest of the river fieldsI
Above by Ensham down by Sandford yieldsI
And what sedged brooks are Thames's tributariesI
-
I know these slopes who knows them if not IX
But many a tingle on the loved hillsideS
With thorns once studded old white blossom'd treesI
Where thick the cowslips grew and far descriedS
High tower'd the spikes of purple orchisesI
Hath since our day put byX
The coronals of that forgotten timeG2
Down each green bank hath gone the ploughboy's teamH2
And only in the hidden brookside gleamH2
Primroses orphans of the flowery primeG2
-
Where is the girl who by the boatman's doorW
Above the locks above the boating throngI2
Unmoor'd our skiff when through the Wytham flatsI
Red loosestrife and blond meadow sweet amongJ2
And darting swallows and light water gnatsI
We track'd the shy Thames shoreW
Where are the mowers who as the tiny swellZ
Of our boat passing heaved the river grassI
Stood with suspended scythe to see us passI
They all are gone and thou art gone as wellZ
-
Yes thou art gone and round me too the nightS
In ever nearing circle weaves her shadeS
I see her veil draw soft across the dayS
I feel her slowly chilling breath invadeS
The cheek grown thin the brown hair sprent with HreyW
I feel her finger lightS
Laid pausefully upon life's headlong trainD2
The foot less prompt to meet the morning dewS
The heart less bounding at emotion newS
And hope once crush'd less quick to spring againD2
-
And long the way appears which seem'd so shortS
To the less practised eye of sanguine youthK2
And high the mountain tops in cloudy airW
The mountain tops where is the throne of TruthK2
Tops in life's morning sun so bright and bareW
Unbreachable the fortS
Of the long batter'd world uplifts its wallL2
And strange and vain the earthly turmoil growsI
And near and real the charm of thy reposeI
And night as welcome as a friend would fallL2
-
But hush the upland hath a sudden lossI
Of quiet Look adown the dusk hill sideS
A troop of Oxford hunters going homeM2
As in old days jovial and talking rideS
From hunting with the Berkshire hounds they comeN2
Quick let me fly and crossI
Into yon fartheK2

Matthew Arnold



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