Hope Dieth: Love Liveth Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AAABCDCBEFEBGGGBHHIB JKKBLMMBNNNBOPPBQQQB RRRBSTTBStrong are thine arms O love strong | A |
Thine heart to live and love and long | A |
But thou art wed to grief and wrong | A |
Live then and long though hope be dead | B |
Live on labour thro' the years | C |
Make pictures through the mist of tears | D |
Of unforgotten happy fears | C |
That crossed the time ere hope was dead | B |
Draw near the place where once we stood | E |
Amid delight's swift rushing flood | F |
And we and all the world seemed good | E |
Nor needed hope now cold and dead | B |
Dream in the dawn I come to thee | G |
Weeping for things that may not be | G |
Dream that thou layest lips on me | G |
Wake wake to clasp hope's body dead | B |
Count o'er and o'er and one by one | H |
The minutes of the happy sun | H |
That while agone on kissed lips shone | I |
Count on rest not for hope is dead | B |
Weep though no hair's breadth thou shalt move | J |
The living Earth the heaven above | K |
By all the bitterness of love | K |
Weep and cease not now hope is dead | B |
Sighs rest thee not tears bring no ease | L |
Life hath no joy and Death no peace | M |
The years change not though they decrease | M |
For hope is dead for hope is dead | B |
Speak love I listen far away | N |
I bless the tremulous lips that say | N |
Mock not the afternoon of day | N |
Mock not the tide when hope is dead | B |
I bless thee O my love who say'st | O |
Mock not the thistle cumbered waste | P |
I hold Love's hand and make no haste | P |
Down the long way now hope is dead | B |
With other names do we name pain | Q |
The long years wear our hearts in vain | Q |
Mock not our loss grown into gain | Q |
Mock not our lost hope lying dead | B |
Our eyes gaze for no morning star | R |
No glimmer of the dawn afar | R |
Full silent wayfarers we are | R |
Since ere the noon tide hope lay dead | B |
Behold with lack of happiness | S |
The master Love our hearts did bless | T |
Lest we should think of him the less | T |
Love dieth not though hope is dead | B |
William Morris
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