The Garden Of Boccaccio Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ KLKLAAAAAAAAMMNN OOA IPAA IIQQRRAA S T

exerptA
Of late in one of those most weary hoursB
When life seems emptied of all genial powersB
A dready mood which he who ne'er has knownC
May bless his happy lot I sate aloneC
And from the numbing spell to win reliefD
Call'd on the Past for thought of glee or griefD
In vain bereft alike of grief and gleeE
I sate and cow'r'd o'er my own vacancyE
And as I watch'd the dull continuous acheF
Which all else slumb'ring seem'd alone to wakeF
O Friend long wont to notice yet concealG
And soothe by silence what words cannot healG
I but half saw that quiet hand of thineH
Place on my desk this exquisite designH
Boccaccio's Garden and its faeryI
The love the joyaunce and the gallantryI
An Idyll with Boccaccio's spirit warmJ
Framed in the silent poesy of formJ
-
Like flocks adown a newly bath d steepK
Emerging from a mist or like a streamL
Of music soft that not dispels the sleepK
But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dreamL
Gazed by an idle eye with silent mightA
The picture stole upon my inward sightA
A tremulous warmth crept gradual o'er my chestA
As though an infant's finger touch'd my breastA
And one by one I know not whence were broughtA
All spirits of power that most had stirr'd my thoughtA
In selfless boyhood on a new world tostA
Of wonder and in its own fancies lostA
Or charm'd my youth that kindled from aboveM
Loved ere it loved and sought a form for loveM
Or lent a lustre to the earnest scanN
Of manhood musing what and whence is manN
-
And many a verse which to myself I sangO
That woke the tear yet stole away the pangO
Of hopes which in lamenting I renew'dA
-
-
Thanks gentle artist now I can descryI
Thy fair creation with a mastering eyeP
And all awake And now in fix'd gaze standA
Now wander through the Eden of thy handA
-
I see no longer I myself am thereI
Sit on the ground sward and the banquet shareI
'Tis I that sweep that lute's love echoing stringsQ
And gaze upon the maid who gazing singsQ
Or pause and listen to the tinkling bellsR
From the high tower and think that there she dwellsR
With old Boccaccio's soul I stand possestA
And breathe an air like life that swells my chestA
-
-
Still in thy garden let me watch their pranksS
-
With that sly satyr peeping through the leavesT

Samuel Taylor Coleridge



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about The Garden Of Boccaccio poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 2 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets