Shall The Harp Then Be Silent Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCD EDED FGFG HIHI JKJK ALAL DDDD MNMN ODOD

Shall the Harp then be silent when he who first gaveA
To our country a name is withdrawn from all eyesB
Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the graveA
Where the first where the last of her Patriots liesB
-
No faint though the death song may fall from his lipsC
Though his Harp like his soul may with shadows be crostD
Yet yet shall it sound 'mid a nation's eclipseC
And proclaim to the world what a star hath been lostD
-
What a union of all the affections and powersE
By which life is exalted embellish'd refinedD
Was embraced in that spirit whose centre was oursE
While its mighty circumference circled mankindD
-
Oh who that loves Erin or who that can seeF
Through the waste of her annals that epoch sublimeG
Like a pyramid raised in the desert where heF
And his glory stand out to the eyes of all timeG
-
That one lucid interval snatch'd from the gloomH
And the madness of ages when fill'd with his soulI
A Nation o'erleap'd the dark bounds of her doomH
And for one sacred instant touch'd Liberty's goalI
-
Who that ever hath heard him hath drunk at the sourceJ
Of that wonderful eloquence all Erin's ownK
In whose high thoughted daring the fire and the forceJ
And the yet untamed spring of her spirit are shownK
-
An eloquence rich wheresoever its waveA
Wander'd free and triumphant with thoughts that shone throughL
As clear as the brook's stone of lustre and gaveA
With the flash of the gem its solidity tooL
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Who what ever approach'd him when free from the crowdD
In a home full of love he delighted to readD
'Mong the trees which a nation had given and which bow'dD
As if each brought a new civic crown for his headD
-
Is there one who hath thus through his orbit of lifeM
But at distance observed him through glory through blameN
In the calm of retreat in the grandeur of strifeM
Whether shining or clouded still high and the sameN
-
Oh no not a heart that e'er knew him but mournsO
Deep deep o'er the grave where such glory is shrinedD
O'er a monument Fame will preserve 'mong the urnsO
Of the wisest the bravest the best of mankindD

Thomas Moore



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