The Poets Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBAABBACDECDE

When this young Land has reached its wrinkled primeA
And we are gone and all our songs are doneB
And naught is left unchanged beneath the sunB
What other singers shall the womb of TimeA
Bring forth to reap the sunny slopes of rhymeA
For surely till the thread of life be spunB
The world shall not lack poets though but oneB
Make lonely music like a vesper chimeA
Above the heedless turmoil of the streetC
What new strange voices shall be given to theseD
What richer accents of melodious breathE
Yet shall they baffled lie at Nature's feetC
Searching the volume of her mysteriesD
And vainly question the fixed eyes of DeathE

Thomas Bailey Aldrich



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