Poem At The Dedication Of The Halleck Monument, July 8, 1869 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDDCC EEAAFGGFF HHIIJKLJJ HHMMNOPNN QQRRSTTSS| Say not the Poet dies | A |
| Though in the dust he lies | A |
| He cannot forfeit his melodious breath | B |
| Unsphered by envious death | B |
| Life drops the voiceless myriads from its roll | C |
| Their fate he cannot share | D |
| Who in the enchanted air | D |
| Sweet with the lingering strains that Echo stole | C |
| Has left his dearer self the music of his soul | C |
| - | |
| We o'er his turf may raise | E |
| Our notes of feeble praise | E |
| And carve with pious care for after eyes | A |
| The stone with Here he lies | A |
| He for himself has built a nobler shrine | F |
| Whose walls of stately rhyme | G |
| Roll back the tides of time | G |
| While o'er their gates the gleaming tablets shine | F |
| That wear his name inwrought with many a golden line | F |
| - | |
| Call not our Poet dead | H |
| Though on his turf we tread | H |
| Green is the wreath their brows so long have worn | I |
| The minstrels of the morn | I |
| Who while the Orient burned with new born flame | J |
| Caught that celestial fire | K |
| And struck a Nation's lyre | L |
| These taught the western winds the poet's name | J |
| Theirs the first opening buds the maiden flowers of fame | J |
| - | |
| Count not our Poet dead | H |
| The stars shall watch his bed | H |
| The rose of June its fragrant life renew | M |
| His blushing mound to strew | M |
| And all the tuneful throats of summer swell | N |
| With trills as crystal clear | O |
| As when he wooed the ear | P |
| Of the young muse that haunts each wooded dell | N |
| With songs of that rough land he loved so long and well | N |
| - | |
| He sleeps he cannot die | Q |
| As evening's long drawn sigh | Q |
| Lifting the rose leaves on his peaceful mound | R |
| Spreads all their sweets around | R |
| So laden with his song the breezes blow | S |
| From where the rustling sedge | T |
| Frets our rude ocean's edge | T |
| To the smooth sea beyond the peaks of snow | S |
| His soul the air enshrines and leaves but dust below | S |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
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