Merlin I Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABACDEDEFFGHIHIJKLKM NONPQQ DFRRSTTUPPVW XXYZA2B2B2B2B2B2 B2C2C2B2D2B2D2E2F2F2 G2H2H2I2J2J2I2 B2B2B2B2OK2K2L2M2PN2 N2

Thy trivial harp will never pleaseA
Or fill my craving earB
Its chords should ring as blows the breezeA
Free peremptory clearC
No jingling serenader's artD
Nor tinkle of piano stringsE
Can make the wild blood startD
In its mystic springsE
The kingly bardF
Must smite the chords rudely and hardF
As with hammer or with maceG
That they may render backH
Artful thunder that conveysI
Secrets of the solar trackH
Sparks of the supersolar blazeI
Merlin's blows are strokes of fateJ
Chiming with the forest toneK
When boughs buffet boughs in the woodL
Chiming with the gasp and moanK
Of the ice imprisoned floodM
With the pulse of manly heartsN
With the voice of oratorsO
With the din of city artsN
With the cannonade of warsP
With the marches of the braveQ
And prayers of might from martyrs' caveQ
-
Great is the artD
Great be the manners of the bardF
He shall not his brain encumberR
With the coil of rhythm and numberR
But leaving rule and pale forethoughtS
He shall aye climbT
For his rhymeT
Pass in pass in the angels sayU
In to the upper doorsP
Nor count compartments of the floorsP
But mount to ParadiseV
By the stairway of surpriseW
-
Blameless master of the gamesX
King of sport that never shamesX
He shall daily joy dispenseY
Hid in song's sweet influenceZ
Things more cheerly live and goA2
What time the subtle mindB2
Plays aloud the tune wheretoB2
Their pulses beatB2
And march their feetB2
And their members are combinedB2
-
By Sybarites beguiledB2
He shall no task declineC2
Merlin's mighty lineC2
Extremes of nature reconciledB2
Bereaved a tyrant of his willD2
And made the lion mildB2
Songs can the tempest stillD2
Scattered on the stormy airE2
Mould the year to fair increaseF2
And bring in poetic peaceF2
-
He shall not seek to weaveG2
In weak unhappy timesH2
Efficacious rhymesH2
Wait his returning strengthI2
Bird that from the nadir's floorJ2
To the zenith's top could soarJ2
The soaring orbit of the muse exceeds that journey's lengthI2
-
Nor profane affect to hitB2
Or compass that by meddling witB2
Which only the propitious mindB2
Publishes when 'tis inclinedB2
There are open hoursO
When the god's will sallies freeK2
And the dull idiot might seeK2
The flowing fortunes of a thousand yearsL2
Sudden at unawaresM2
Self moved fly to the doorsP
Nor sword of angels could revealN2
What they concealN2

Ralph Waldo Emerson



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