Glukupikros Eros Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAA ACAC DAEA FGHI AJHJ DKDK AGAG LMAM NAOA PQAQ AADA AARA SAMA TUVU WXYX

Sweet I blame you not for mine the faultA
was had I not been made of common clayB
I had climbed the higher heights unclimbedA
yet seen the fuller air the larger dayA
-
From the wildness of my wasted passion I hadA
struck a better clearer songC
Lit some lighter light of freer freedom battledA
with some Hydra headed wrongC
-
Had my lips been smitten into music by theD
kisses that but made them bleedA
You had walked with Bice and the angels onE
that verdant and enamelled meadA
-
I had trod the road which Dante treading sawF
the suns of seven circles shineG
Ay perchance had seen the heavens openingH
as they opened to the FlorentineI
-
And the mighty nations would have crownedA
me who am crownless now and without nameJ
And some orient dawn had found me kneelingH
on the threshold of the House of FameJ
-
I had sat within that marble circle where theD
oldest bard is as the youngK
And the pipe is ever dropping honey and theD
lyre's strings are ever strungK
-
Keats had lifted up his hymeneal curls from outA
the poppy seeded wineG
With ambrosial mouth had kissed my foreheadA
clasped the hand of noble love in mineG
-
And at springtide when the apple blossoms brushL
the burnished bosom of the doveM
Two young lovers lying in an orchard wouldA
have read the story of our loveM
-
Would have read the legend of my passionN
known the bitter secret of my heartA
Kissed as we have kissed but never parted asO
we two are fated now to partA
-
For the crimson flower of our life is eaten byP
the cankerworm of truthQ
And no hand can gather up the fallen witheredA
petals of the rose of youthQ
-
Yet I am not sorry that I loved you ah whatA
else had I a boy to doA
For the hungry teeth of time devour and theD
silent footed years pursueA
-
Rudderless we drift athwart a tempest andA
when once the storm of youth is pastA
Without lyre without lute or chorus DeathR
the silent pilot comes at lastA
-
And within the grave there is no pleasure forS
the blindworm battens on the rootA
And Desire shudders into ashes and the tree ofM
Passion bears no fruitA
-
Ah what else had I to do but love you God'sT
own mother was less dear to meU
And less dear the Cytheraean rising like anV
argent lily from the seaU
-
I have made my choice have lived my poemsW
and though youth is gone in wasted daysX
I have found the lover's crown of myrtle betterY
than the poet's crown of baysX

Oscar Wilde



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