Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCBBDBDD EFEFFFFFF GHGHHIHII JFJFFKFKK LMLCCNCNN| The sun is warm the sky is clear | A |
| The waves are dancing fast and bright | B |
| Blue isles and snowy mountains wear | C |
| The purple noon's transparent might | B |
| The breath of the moist air is light | B |
| Around its unexpanded buds | D |
| Like many a voice of one delight | B |
| The winds' the birds' the ocean floods' | D |
| The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's | D |
| - | |
| I see the Deep's untrampled floor | E |
| With green and purple seaweeds strown | F |
| I see the waves upon the shore | E |
| Like light dissolved in star showers thrown | F |
| I sit upon the sands alone | F |
| The lightning of the noontide ocean | F |
| Is flashing round me and a tone | F |
| Arises from its measured motion | F |
| How sweet did any heart now share in my emotion | F |
| - | |
| Alas I have nor hope nor health | G |
| Nor peace within nor calm around | H |
| Nor that content surpassing wealth | G |
| The sage in meditation found | H |
| And walked with inward glory crowned | H |
| Nor fame nor power nor love nor leisure | I |
| Others I see whom these surround | H |
| Smiling they live and call life pleasure | I |
| To me that cup has been dealt in another measure | I |
| - | |
| Some might lament that I were cold | J |
| As I when this sweet day is done | F |
| Which my lost heart too soon grown old | J |
| Insults with this untimely moan | F |
| They might lament for I am one | F |
| Whom men love not and yet regret | K |
| Unlike this day which when the sun | F |
| Shall on its stainless glory set | K |
| Will linger though enjoyed like joy in memory yet | K |
| - | |
| Yet now despair itself is mild | L |
| Even as the winds and waters are | M |
| I could lie down like a tired child | L |
| And weep away the life of care | C |
| Which I have borne and yet must bear | C |
| Till death like sleep might steal on me | N |
| And I might feel in the warm air | C |
| My cheek grow cold and hear the sea | N |
| Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony | N |
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1)
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