Song-flower And Poppy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A B CDCDEED FGHGIIG DJDEKKE DLDLAML NLNLLLL OEOELLE LPLPQQP PRPRLLR DSDTAEA ELELLLL URURLLR A E LLLLEEL PEPEVVE PEPPLLE PLPLEEL LLLLLLL| I | A |
| - | |
| IN NEW YORK | B |
| - | |
| He plays the deuce with my writing time | C |
| For the penny my sixth floor neighbor throws | D |
| He finds me proud of my pondered rhyme | C |
| And he leaves me well God knows | D |
| It takes the shine from a tunester's line | E |
| When a little mate of the deathless Nine | E |
| Pipes up under your nose | D |
| - | |
| For listen there is his voice again | F |
| Wistful and clear and piercing sweet | G |
| Where did the boy find such a strain | H |
| To make a dead heart beat | G |
| And how in the name of care can he bear | I |
| To jet such a fountain into the air | I |
| In this gray gulch of a street | G |
| - | |
| Tuscan slopes or the Piedmontese | D |
| Umbria under the Apennine | J |
| South where the terraced lemon trees | D |
| Round rich Sorrento shine | E |
| Venice moon on the smooth lagoon | K |
| Where have I heard that aching tune | K |
| That boyish throat divine | E |
| - | |
| Beyond my roofs and chimney pots | D |
| A rag of sunset crumbles gray | L |
| Below fierce radiance hangs in clots | D |
| O'er the streams that never stay | L |
| Shrill and high newsboys cry | A |
| The worst of the city's infamy | M |
| For one more sordid day | L |
| - | |
| But my desire has taken sail | N |
| For lands beyond soft horizoned | L |
| Down languorous leagues I hold the trail | N |
| From Marmalada steeply throned | L |
| Above high pastures washed with light | L |
| Where dolomite by dolomite | L |
| Looms sheer and spectral coned | L |
| - | |
| To purple vineyards looking south | O |
| On reaches of the still Tyrrhene | E |
| Virgilian headlands and the mouth | O |
| Of Tiber where that ship put in | E |
| To take the dead men home to God | L |
| Whereof Casella told the mode | L |
| To the great Florentine | E |
| - | |
| Up stairways blue with flowering weed | L |
| I climb to hill hung Bergamo | P |
| All day I watch the thunder breed | L |
| Golden above the springs of Po | P |
| Till the voice makes sure its wavering lure | Q |
| And by Assisi's portals pure | Q |
| I stand with heart bent low | P |
| - | |
| O hear how it blooms in the blear dayfall | P |
| That flower of passionate wistful song | R |
| How it blows like a rose by the iron wall | P |
| Of the city loud and strong | R |
| How it cries Nay nay to the worldling's way | L |
| To the heart's clear dream how it whispers Yea | L |
| Time comes though the time is long | R |
| - | |
| Beyond my roofs and chimney piles | D |
| Sunset crumbles ragged dire | S |
| The roaring street is hung for miles | D |
| With fierce electric fire | T |
| Shrill and high newsboys cry | A |
| The gross of the planet's destiny | E |
| Through one more sullen gyre | A |
| - | |
| Stolidly the town flings down | E |
| Its lust by day for its nightly lust | L |
| Who does his given stint 't is known | E |
| Shall have his mug and crust | L |
| Too base of mood too harsh of blood | L |
| Too stout to seize the grosser good | L |
| Too hungry after dust | L |
| - | |
| O hark how it blooms in the falling dark | U |
| That flower of mystical yearning song | R |
| Sad as a hermit thrush as a lark | U |
| Uplifted glad and strong | R |
| Heart we have chosen the better part | L |
| Save sacred love and sacred art | L |
| Nothing is good for long | R |
| - | |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| AT ASSISI | E |
| - | |
| Before St Francis' burg I wait | L |
| Frozen in spirit faint with dread | L |
| His presence stands within the gate | L |
| Mild splendor rings his head | L |
| Gently he seems to welcome me | E |
| Knows he not I am quick and he | E |
| Is dead and priest of the dead | L |
| - | |
| I turn away from the gray church pile | P |
| I dare not enter thus undone | E |
| Here in the roadside grass awhile | P |
| I will lie and watch for the sun | E |
| Too purged of earth's good glee and strife | V |
| Too drained of the honied lusts of life | V |
| Was the peace these old saints won | E |
| - | |
| And lo how the laughing earth says no | P |
| To the fear that mastered me | E |
| To the blood that aches and clamors so | P |
| How it whispers Verily | P |
| Here by my side marvelous dyed | L |
| Bold stray away from the courts of pride | L |
| A poppy bell flaunts free | E |
| - | |
| St Francis sleeps upon his hill | P |
| And a poppy flower laughs down his creed | L |
| Triumphant light her petals spill | P |
| His shrines are dim indeed | L |
| Men build and plan but the soul of man | E |
| Coming with haughty eyes to scan | E |
| Feels richer wilder need | L |
| - | |
| How long old builder Time wilt bide | L |
| Till at thy thrilling word | L |
| Life's crimson pride shall have to bride | L |
| The spirit's white accord | L |
| Within that gate of good estate | L |
| Which thou must build us soon or late | L |
| Hoar workman of the Lord | L |
William Vaughn Moody
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