Illumination Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Is it joy or is it peace	A
Senses' magical release	A
That triumphant swells my heart	B
Where I walk the fields apart	B
Miracle of morning new	C
Meadows dabbled fresh in dew	C
Straight stemmed woods that darkly still	D
Stand upon the rounded hill	D
Where the silver saplings gleam	E
On the edges of a dream	E
Mists that in faint fleeces blur	F
All the frayed plumes of the fir	F
And that whiten the fresh green	G
Of the bosomed field between	G
Melted ever more and more	H
By the level beams that pour	H
Sparkling through the sleepy rare	I
Delicately coloured air	I
Flowers that wake from peace to peace	A
Subtle scented loneliness	J
World that drenches through and through	C
A stillness exquisite as dew	C
Ploughman ploughing nigh at hand	K
Along the open hazy land	K
Calm as though a part of those	L
Brown furrows over which he goes	L
O what fount is it in me	M
All this solitude sets free	M
Far from miseries that dart	B
Pangs of pity at the heart	B
Far from prisoning tasks that hide	N
The vision true of freedom wide	N
Through a melting curtain clear	O
The stir of spring I see and hear	P
Softly the young beams surprise	Q
My own spirit's mysteries	R
And my still thought scarce aware	I
Mingles into radiant air	I
Now my eyes I cast around	S
On an unsubstantial ground	S
As I gaze I seem to grow	T
Into Earth her longing know	T
Feel the swelling of the bud	U
Quicken warm within my blood	U
And the grasses shooting higher	F
Are a wave of my desire	F
Deep and deeper sinks my mind	V
To a charm intense resigned	V
Deep into the grain of things	W
Dissolved with its imaginings	W
	-
Now the ploughman ploughs as he	M
Furrowed lines of destiny	M
Now the oak his shadow due	C
Claims as if from earth it grew	C
Not by casual beams of day	X
Given and then stolen away	X
I too from Time's ample womb	Y
Summon my appointed doom	Y
And conjure the hours to bring	Z
Each its rapture each its sting	Z
In a vista long appears	W
The close peopled street of years	W
There the hands that I shall clasp	A2
Are stretched out my own to grasp	A2
Ready in my heart the throe	C
Burns for each awaiting woe	T
Sorrow with her silent spade	B2
Graves for unborn hopes hath made	B2
Joy about me glides her arm	C2
Ignorant of grief and harm	C2
Like a child that only knows	W
Where 'tis loved and thither goes	W
Onward on the path begun	D2
I perceive my footsteps run	D2
Yet backward stretching all I find	V
In the mirror of my mind	V
In a hundred sleeps behold	E2
My own face becoming old	E2
And inaudibly drawn near	C
Death has whispered in my ear	C

Robert Laurence Binyon

Illumination Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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