Poem: [greek Title] Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Sweet I blame you not for mine the fault	A
was had I not been made of common clay	B
I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed	A
yet seen the fuller air the larger day	A
	-
From the wildness of my wasted passion I had	A
struck a better clearer song	C
Lit some lighter light of freer freedom battled	A
with some Hydra headed wrong	C
	-
Had my lips been smitten into music by the	D
kisses that but made them bleed	A
You had walked with Bice and the angels on	E
that verdant and enamelled mead	A
	-
I had trod the road which Dante treading saw	F
the suns of seven circles shine	G
Ay perchance had seen the heavens opening	H
as they opened to the Florentine	I
	-
And the mighty nations would have crowned	A
me who am crownless now and without name	J
And some orient dawn had found me kneeling	H
on the threshold of the House of Fame	J
	-
I had sat within that marble circle where the	D
oldest bard is as the young	K
And the pipe is ever dropping honey and the	D
lyre's strings are ever strung	K
	-
Keats had lifted up his hymeneal curls from out	A
the poppy seeded wine	G
With ambrosial mouth had kissed my forehead	A
clasped the hand of noble love in mine	G
	-
And at springtide when the apple blossoms brush	L
the burnished bosom of the dove	M
Two young lovers lying in an orchard would	A
have read the story of our love	M
	-
Would have read the legend of my passion	N
known the bitter secret of my heart	A
Kissed as we have kissed but never parted as	O
we two are fated now to part	A
	-
For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by	P
the cankerworm of truth	Q
And no hand can gather up the fallen withered	A
petals of the rose of youth	Q
	-
Yet I am not sorry that I loved you ah what	A
else had I a boy to do	A
For the hungry teeth of time devour and the	D
silent footed years pursue	A
	-
Rudderless we drift athwart a tempest and	A
when once the storm of youth is past	A
Without lyre without lute or chorus Death	R
the silent pilot comes at last	A
	-
And within the grave there is no pleasure for	S
the blindworm battens on the root	A
And Desire shudders into ashes and the tree of	M
Passion bears no fruit	A
	-
Ah what else had I to do but love you God's	T
own mother was less dear to me	U
And less dear the Cytheraean rising like an	V
argent lily from the sea	U
	-
I have made my choice have lived my poems	W
and though youth is gone in wasted days	X
I have found the lover's crown of myrtle better	Y
than the poet's crown of bays	X

Oscar Fingal O'flahertie Wills Wilde

Poem: [greek Title] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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