Futility Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCC DEDEFF GHIHJJ EKEKLL MNMOPP

Dusting my books I spent a busy dayA
Not ancient toes time hallowed and unreadB
but modern volumes classics in their wayA
whose makers now are numbered with the deadB
Men of a generation more than mineC
With whom I tattled battled and drank wineC
-
I worshipped them rejoiced in their successD
Grudging them not the gold that goes with fameE
I thought them near immortal I confessD
And naught could dim the glory of each nameE
How I perused their pages with delightF
To day I peer with sadness in my sightF
-
For death has pricked each to a flat balloonG
A score of years have gone they're clean forgotH
Who would have visioned such a dreary doomI
By God I'd like to burn the blasted lotH
Only old books are mighty hard to burnJ
They char they flicker and their pages turnJ
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And as you stand to poke them in the flameE
You see a living line that stabs the heartK
Brave writing that It seems a cursed shameE
That to a bonfire it should play it's partK
Poor book You're crying and you're not aloneL
Some day someone will surely burn my ownL
-
No I will dust my books and put them byM
Yet never look into their leaves againN
For scarce a soul remembers them save IM
Re reading them would only give me painO
So I will sigh and say with curling lipP
Futility Thy name is authorshipP

Robert Service



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