The Lacking Sense Scene.--a Sad-coloured Landscape, Waddon Vale Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBBBB A CBDCEE A BCBBBB BCBFBBB C FBFGG EHBEII| I | A |
| - | |
| O Time whence comes the Mother's moody look amid her labours | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp As of one who all unwittingly has wounded where she loves | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Why weaves she not her world webs to according lutes and tabors | B |
| With nevermore this too remorseful air upon her face | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp As of angel fallen from grace | B |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| Her look is but her story construe not its symbols keenly | C |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp In her wonderworks yea surely has she wounded where she loves | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp The sense of ills misdealt for blisses blanks the mien most | D |
| queenly | C |
| Self smitings kill self joys and everywhere beneath the sun | E |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Such deeds her hands have done | E |
| - | |
| III | A |
| - | |
| And how explains thy Ancient Mind her crimes upon her creatures | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp These fallings from her fair beginnings woundings where she | C |
| loves | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Into her would be perfect motions modes effects and features | B |
| Admitting cramps black humours wan decay and baleful blights | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Distress into delights | B |
| - | |
| IV | - |
| - | |
| Ah know'st thou not her secret yet her vainly veiled deficience | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Whence it comes that all unwittingly she wounds the lives she | C |
| loves | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp That sightless are those orbs of hers which bar to her | F |
| omniscience | B |
| Brings those fearful unfulfilments that red ravage through her zones | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Whereat all creation groans | B |
| - | |
| V | C |
| - | |
| She whispers it in each pathetic strenuous slow endeavour | F |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp When in mothering she unwittingly sets wounds on what she loves | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Yet her primal doom pursues her faultful fatal is she ever | F |
| Though so deft and nigh to vision is her facile finger touch | G |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp That the seers marvel much | G |
| - | |
| VI | - |
| - | |
| Deal then her groping skill no scorn no note of malediction | E |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp Not long on thee will press the hand that hurts the lives it | H |
| loves | B |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp And while she dares dead reckoning on in darkness of affliction | E |
| Assist her where thy creaturely dependence can or may | I |
| nbsp nbsp nbsp For thou art of her clay | I |
Thomas Hardy
(1)
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