Young Love I - "surely At Last, O Lady, The Sweet Moon" Poem Rhyme Scheme

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N B This sequence of poems has appeared in former editions under the title of 'Love Platonic '	A
	-
	-
I	-
	-
	-
Surely at last O Lady the sweet moon	B
That bringeth in the happy singing weather	C
Groweth to pearly queendom and full soon	B
Shall Love and Song go hand in hand together	C
For all the pain that all too long hath waited	D
In deep dumb darkness shall have speech at last	E
And the bright babe Death gave the Love he mated	F
Shall leap to light and kiss the weeping past	E
	-
For all the silver morning is a glimmer	C
With gleaming spears of great Apollo's host	G
And the night fadeth like a spent out swimmer	C
Hurled from the headlands of some shining coast	G
O happy soul thy mouth at last is singing	H
Drunken with wine of morning's azure deep	I
Sing on my soul the world beneath thee swinging	H
A bough of song above a sea of sleep	I
	-
	-
Who is the lady I sing	H
Ah how can I tell thee her praise	J
For whom all my life's but the string	H
Of a rosary painful of days	J
	-
Which I count with a curious smile	K
As a miser who hoardeth his gain	L
Though a madhearted spendthrift the while	K
I but gather to waste again	M
	-
Yea I pluck from the tree of the years	N
As a country maid greedy of flowers	O
Each day brimming over with tears	P
And I scatter like petals its hours	O
	-
And I trample them under my feet	Q
In a frenzy of cloven hoofed swine	R
And the breath of their dying is sweet	Q
And the blood of their hearts is as wine	R
	-
O I throw me low down on the ground	S
And I bury my face in their death	T
And only I rise at the sound	S
Of a wind as it scattereth	T
	-
As it scattereth sweetly the dried	U
Leaves withered and brittle and sere	V
Of days of old years that have died	U
And O it is sweet in my ear	W
	-
And I rise me and build me a pyre	C
Of the whispering skeleton things	X
And my heart laugheth low with the fire	C
Laugheth high with the flame as it springs	X
	-
And above in the flickering glare	Y
I mark me the boughs of my tree	Z
My tree of the years growing bare	Y
Growing bare with the scant days to be	Z
	-
Then I turn to my beads and I pray	A2
For the axe at the root of the tree	Z
Last flower last bead ah last day	A2
That shall part me my darling from thee	Z
	-
And I pray for the knife on the string	H
Of this rosary painful of days	J
But who is the Lady I sing	H
Ah how can I tell thee her praise	J

Richard Le Gallienne

Young Love I - "surely At Last, O Lady, The Sweet Moon" Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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