The Burial-place: A Fragment Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRDS TUVWXYZHA2 B2C2D2E2SF2A2BG2H2I2 C2J2K2L2M2N2O2P2WH2Q 2R2C2S2T2U2V2

Erewhile on England's pleasant shores our siresA
Left not their churchyards unadorned with shadesB
Or blossoms and indulgent to the strongC
And natural dread of man's last home the graveD
Its frost and silence they disposed aroundE
To soothe the melancholy spirit that dweltF
Too sadly on life's close the forms and huesG
Of vegetable beauty There the yewH
Green even amid the snows of winter toldI
Of immortality and gracefullyJ
The willow a perpetual mourner droopedK
And there the gadding woodbine crept aboutL
And there the ancient ivy From the spotM
Where the sweet maiden in her blossoming yearsN
Cut off was laid with streaming eyes and handsO
That trembled as they placed her there the roseP
Sprung modest on bowed stalk and better spokeQ
Her graces than the proudest monumentR
There children set about their playmate's graveD
The pansy On the infant's little bedS
Wet at its planting with maternal tearsT
Emblem of early sweetness early deathU
Nestled the lowly primrose Childless damesV
And maids that would not raise the reddened eyeW
Orphans from whose young lids the light of joyX
Fled early silent lovers who had givenY
All that they lived for to the arms of earthZ
Came often o'er the recent graves to strewH
Their offerings rue and rosemary and flowersA2
-
The pilgrim bands who passed the sea to keepB2
Their Sabbaths in the eye of God aloneC2
In his wide temple of the wildernessD2
Brought not these simple customs of the heartE2
With them It might be while they laid their deadS
By the vast solemn skirts of the old grovesF2
And the fresh virgin soil poured forth strange flowersA2
About their graves and the familiar shadesB
Of their own native isle and wonted bloomsG2
And herbs were wanting which the pious handH2
Might plant or scatter there these gentle ritesI2
Passed out of use Now they are scarcely knownC2
And rarely in our borders may you meetJ2
The tall larch sighing in the burying placeK2
Or willow trailing low its boughs to hideL2
The gleaming marble Naked rows of gravesM2
And melancholy ranks of monumentsN2
Are seen instead where the coarse grass betweenO2
Shoots up its dull green spikes and in the windP2
Hisses and the neglected bramble nighW
Offers its berries to the schoolboy's handH2
In vain they grow too near the dead Yet hereQ2
Nature rebuking the neglect of manR2
Plants often by the ancient mossy stoneC2
The brier rose and upon the broken turfS2
That clothes the fresher grave the strawberry vineT2
Sprinkles its swell with blossoms and lays forthU2
Her ruddy pouting fruitV2

William Cullen Bryant



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