Lady Constance Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACBC DDEEEEE EE FF EEE EEGGGGGG EEE DD HH GGIIGDDG GGJKJKGLGLMGMGJMGJGG GEEGGEGGGGGJNNOOEEEE PPQQQ| My Love my Lord | A |
| I think the toil of glorious day is done | B |
| I see thee leaning on thy jewelled sword | A |
| And a light hearted child of France | C |
| Is dancing to thee in the sun | B |
| And thus he carols in his dance | C |
| - | |
| - | |
| 'Oh a gallant sans peur | D |
| Is the merry chasseur | D |
| With his fanfaron horn and his rifle ping pang | E |
| And his grand havresack | E |
| Of gold on his back | E |
| His pistol cric crac | E |
| And his sword cling clang | E |
| - | |
| - | |
| Oh to see him blithe and gay | E |
| From some hot and bloody day | E |
| Come to dance the night away till the bugle blows 'au rang ' | - |
| With a wheel and a whirl | F |
| And a wheeling waltzing girl | F |
| And his bow 'place aux dames ' and his oath 'feu et sang ' | - |
| And his hop and his fling | E |
| Till his gold and silver ring | E |
| To the clatter and the clash of his sword cling clang | E |
| - | |
| - | |
| But hark | E |
| Thro' the dark | E |
| Up goes the well known shout | G |
| The drums beat the turn out | G |
| Cut short your coarting Monsieur l' Amant | G |
| Saddle mount march trot | G |
| Down comes the storm of shot | G |
| The foe is at the charge En avant | G |
| - | |
| - | |
| His jolly havresack | E |
| Of gold is on his back | E |
| Hear his pistol cric crac hear his rifle ping pang | E |
| - | |
| - | |
| Vive l' Empereur | D |
| And where's the Chasseur | D |
| - | |
| - | |
| He's in | H |
| Among the din | H |
| Steel to steel cling clang ' | - |
| - | |
| - | |
| And thou within the doorway of thy tent | G |
| Leanest at ease with careless brow unbent | G |
| Watching the dancer in as pleased a dream | I |
| As if he were a gnat i' the evening gleam | I |
| And thou and I were sitting side by side | G |
| Within the happy bower | D |
| Where oft at this same hour | D |
| We watched them the sweet year I was a bride | G |
| - | |
| - | |
| My Love my Lord | G |
| Leaning so grandly on thy jewelled sword | G |
| Is there no thought of home to whisper thee | J |
| None can relieve the weary guard I keep | K |
| None wave the flag of breathing truce for me | J |
| Nor sound the hours to slumber or to weep | K |
| Once in a moon the bugle breaks thy rest | G |
| I count my days by trumpets and alarms | L |
| Thou liest down in thy warcloak and art blest | G |
| While I who cannot sleep but in thine arms | L |
| Wage night and day fresh fields unknown to fame | M |
| Arm marshal march charge fight fall faint and die | G |
| Know all a soldier can endure but shame | M |
| And every chance of warfare but to fly | G |
| I do not murmur at my destiny | J |
| It can but go with love with whom it came | M |
| And love is like the sun his light is sweet | G |
| And sweet his shadow welcome both to me | J |
| Better for ever to endure that hurt | G |
| Which thou canst taste but once than once to lie | G |
| At ease when thou hast anguish Better I | G |
| Be often sad when thou art gay than gay | E |
| One moment of thy sorrow Tho' I pray | E |
| Too oft I shall win nothing of the sky | G |
| But my unfilled desire and thy desert | G |
| Can take it and still lack Oh might I stay | E |
| At the shut gates of heaven that so I meet | G |
| Each issuing fate and cling about his feet | G |
| And melt the dreadful purpose of his eye | G |
| And not one power pass unimpleaded by | G |
| Whose bolt might be for thee Aye love is sweet | G |
| In shine or shade But love hath jealousy | J |
| That knowing but so little thinks so much | N |
| And I am jealous of thee even with such | N |
| A fatal knowledge For I wot too well | O |
| In the set season that I cannot tell | O |
| Death will be near thee This thought doth deflour | E |
| All innocence from time I dare not say | E |
| 'Not now ' but for the instant cull the hour | E |
| And for the hour reap all the doubtful day | E |
| And for the day the year and so forlorn | P |
| From morn till night from startled night till morn | P |
| Like a blind slave I bear thine heavy ill | Q |
| Till thy time comes to take it come when 't will | Q |
| The broken slave will bend beneath it still | Q |
Sydney Thompson Dobell
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
About Lady Constance
Lady Constance is a poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
Write your comment about Lady Constance poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Best Poems of Sydney Thompson Dobell