A Letter To A Live Poet Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Sir since the last Elizabethan died	A
Or rather that more Paradisal muse	B
Blind with much light passed to the light more glorious	C
Or deeper blindness no man's hand as thine	D
Has on the world's most noblest chord of song	E
Struck certain magic strains Ears satiate	A
With the clamorous timorous whisperings of to day	A
Thrilled to perceive once more the spacious voice	F
And serene utterance of old We heard	A
With rapturous breath half held as a dreamer dreams	G
Who dares not know it dreaming lest he wake	H
The odorous amorous style of poetry	I
The melancholy knocking of those lines	J
The long low soughing of pentameters	J
Or the sharp of rhyme as a bird's cry	K
And the innumerable truant polysyllables	J
Multitudinously twittering like a bee	I
Fulfilled our hearts were with that music then	L
And all the evenings sighed it to the dawn	M
And all the lovers heard it from all the trees	J
All of the accents upon all the norms	J
And ah the stress on the penultimate	A
We never knew blank verse could have such feet	A
	-
Where is it now Oh more than ever now	N
I sometimes think no poetry is read	A
Save where some sepultured Caesura bled	A
Royally incarnadining all the line	D
Is the imperial iamb laid to rest	A
And the young trochee having done enough	O
	-
Ah turn again Sing so to us who are sick	P
Of seeming simple rhymes bizarre emotions	J
Decked in the simple verses of the day	A
Infinite meaning in the little gloom	Q
Irregular thoughts in stanzas regular	R
Modern despair in antique meters myths	J
Incomprehensible at evening	S
And symbols that mean nothing in the dawn	M
The slow lines swell The new styles sighs The Celt	A
Moans round with many voices	J
	-
God to see	I
Gaunt anapaests stand up out of the verse	J
Combative accents stress where no stress should be	I
Spondee on spondee iamb on choriamb	Q
The thrill of the all the tribrachs in the world	A
And all the vowels rising to the E	I
To hear the blessed mutter of those verbs	J
Conjunctions passionate toward each other's arms	J
And epithets like amaranthine lovers	J
Stretching luxuriously to the stars	J
All prouder pronouns than the dawn and all	T
The thunder of the trumpets of the noun	U

Rupert Brooke

A Letter To A Live Poet Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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