For The Meeting Of The National Sanitary Association 1860 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH IJIJ KLKL MFMF NONO PQPQ RERE STST UVUV WXWXWhat makes the Healing Art divine | A |
The bitter drug we buy and sell | B |
The brands that scorch the blades that shine | A |
The scars we leave the cures we tell | B |
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Are these thy glories holiest Art | C |
The trophies that adorn thee best | D |
Or but thy triumph's meanest part | C |
Where mortal weakness stands confessed | D |
- | |
We take the arms that Heaven supplies | E |
For Life's long battle with Disease | F |
Taught by our various need to prize | E |
Our frailest weapons even these | F |
- | |
But ah when Science drops her shield | G |
Its peaceful shelter proved in vain | H |
And bares her snow white arm to wield | G |
The sad stern ministry of pain | H |
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When shuddering o'er the fount of life | I |
She folds her heaven anointed wings | J |
To lift unmoved the glittering knife | I |
That searches all its crimson springs | J |
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When faithful to her ancient lore | K |
She thrusts aside her fragrant balm | L |
For blistering juice or cankering ore | K |
And tames them till they cure or calm | L |
- | |
When in her gracious hand are seen | M |
The dregs and scum of earth and seas | F |
Her kindness counting all things clean | M |
That lend the sighing sufferer ease | F |
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Though on the field that Death has won | N |
She save some stragglers in retreat | O |
These single acts of mercy done | N |
Are but confessions of defeat | O |
- | |
What though our tempered poisons save | P |
Some wrecks of life from aches and ails | Q |
Those grand specifics Nature gave | P |
Were never poised by weights or scales | Q |
- | |
God lent his creatures light and air | R |
And waters open to the skies | E |
Man locks him in a stifling lair | R |
And wonders why his brother dies | E |
- | |
In vain our pitying tears are shed | S |
In vain we rear the sheltering pile | T |
Where Art weeds out from bed to bed | S |
The plagues we planted by the mile | T |
- | |
Be that the glory of the past | U |
With these our sacred toils begin | V |
So flies in tatters from its mast | U |
The yellow flag of sloth and sin | V |
- | |
And lo the starry folds reveal | W |
The blazoned truth we hold so dear | X |
To guard is better than to heal | W |
The shield is nobler than the spear | X |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
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