Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDEFEGG HGIGIGJK KLKLKLGG MMMMMMNO KKKKKKKKK GKGKGGG A KPMKQMIKKI A KRKKBKKKKK SKGSKGKTTK SUKVUKKWXK M XYXY M KKKKK GWGWW KZKZZ KMKMM M GKWGKWMGKMGKWKGWKG

IA
-
Many ingenious lovely things are goneB
That seemed sheer miracle to the multitudeC
protected from the circle of the moonD
That pitches common things about There stoodE
Amid the ornamental bronze and stoneF
An ancient image made of olive woodE
And gone are phidias' famous ivoriesG
And all the golden grasshoppers and beesG
-
We too had many pretty toys when youngH
A law indifferent to blame or praiseG
To bribe or threat habits that made old wrongI
Melt down as it were wax in the sun's raysG
Public opinion ripening for so longI
We thought it would outlive all future daysG
O what fine thought we had because we thoughtJ
That the worst rogues and rascals had died outK
-
All teeth were drawn all ancient tricks unlearnedK
And a great army but a showy thingL
What matter that no cannon had been turnedK
Into a ploughshare Parliament and kingL
Thought that unless a little powder burnedK
The trumpeters might burst with trumpetingL
And yet it lack all glory and perchanceG
The guardsmen's drowsy chargers would not pranceG
-
Now days are dragon ridden the nightmareM
Rides upon sleep a drunken soldieryM
Can leave the mother murdered at her doorM
To crawl in her own blood and go scot freeM
The night can sweat with terror as beforeM
We pieced our thoughts into philosophyM
And planned to bring the world under a ruleN
Who are but weasels fighting in a holeO
-
He who can read the signs nor sink unmannedK
Into the half deceit of some intoxicantK
From shallow wits who knows no work can standK
Whether health wealth or peace of mind were spentK
On master work of intellect or handK
No honour leave its mighty monumentK
Has but one comfort left all triumph wouldK
But break upon his ghostly solitudeK
But is there any comfort to be foundK
-
Man is in love and loves what vanishesG
What more is there to say That country roundK
None dared admit if Such a thought were hisG
Incendiary or bigot could be foundK
To burn that stump on the AcropolisG
Or break in bits the famous ivoriesG
Or traffic in the grasshoppers or beesG
-
IIA
-
When Loie Fuller's Chinese dancers enwoundK
A shining web a floating ribbon of clothP
It seemed that a dragon of airM
Had fallen among dancers had whirled them roundK
Or hurried them off on its own furious pathQ
So the platonic YearM
Whirls out new right and wrongI
Whirls in the old insteadK
All men are dancers and their treadK
Goes to the barbarous clangour of a gongI
-
IIIA
-
Some moralist or mythological poetK
Compares the solitary soul to a swanR
I am satisfied with thatK
Satisfied if a troubled mirror show itK
Before that brief gleam of its life be goneB
An image of its stateK
The wings half spread for flightK
The breast thrust out in prideK
Whether to play or to rideK
Those winds that clamour of approaching nightK
-
A man in his own secret meditationS
Is lost amid the labyrinth that he has madeK
In art or politicsG
Some platonist affirms that in the stationS
Where we should cast off body and tradeK
The ancient habit sticksG
And that if our works couldK
But vanish with our breathT
That were a lucky deathT
For triumph can but mar our solitudeK
-
The swan has leaped into the desolate heavenS
That image can bring wildness bring a rageU
To end all things to endK
What my laborious life imagined evenV
The half imagined the half written pageU
O but we dreamed to mendK
Whatever mischief seemedK
To afflict mankind but nowW
That winds of winter blowX
Learn that we were crack pated when we dreamedK
-
IVM
-
We who seven yeats agoX
Talked of honour and of truthY
Shriek with pleasure if we showX
The weasel's twist the weasel's toothY
-
VM
-
Come let us mock at the greatK
That had such burdens on the mindK
And toiled so hard and lateK
To leave some monument behindK
Nor thought of the levelling windK
-
Come let us mock at the wiseG
With all those calendars whereonW
They fixed old aching eyesG
They never saw how seasons runW
And now but gape at the sunW
-
Come let us mock at the goodK
That fancied goodness might be gayZ
And sick of solitudeK
Might proclaim a holidayZ
Wind shrieked and where are theyZ
-
Mock mockers after thatK
That would not lift a hand maybeM
To help good wise or greatK
To bar that foul storm out for weM
Traffic in mockeryM
-
VIM
-
Violence upon the roads violence of horsesG
Some few have handsome riders are garlandedK
On delicate sensitive ear or tossing maneW
But wearied running round and round in their coursesG
All break and vanish and evil gathers headK
Herodias' daughters have returned againW
A sudden blast of dusty wind and afterM
Thunder of feet tumult of imagesG
Their purpose in the labyrinth of the windK
And should some crazy hand dare touch a daughterM
All turn with amorous cries or angry criesG
According to the wind for all are blindK
But now wind drops dust settles thereuponW
There lurches past his great eyes without thoughtK
Under the shadow of stupid straw pale locksG
That insolent fiend Robert ArtissonW
To whom the love lorn Lady Kyteler broughtK
Bronzed peacock feathers red combs of her cocksG

William Butler Yeats



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