Wordsworth's Grave Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDC DEDE EFGF HIHJ KLML NGNG A OPOP QRQR SESE TUTU VWVW A XYXY EZEA2 B2C2B2C2 D2E2D2E2 YEYE R LF2LF2 G2EG2E H2EI2E J2EJ2E EA2EA2 RK2RK2 L2EL2E M2EM2E N2KN2K J2EJ2E O2RO2O2 FCFC P2G2P2G2 O2O2O2O2 R Q2R2S2R2 O2N2O2N2 FM2FM2 T2RT2R RT2RT2 R T2T2T2 PU2N2U2 RRRR RRRR T2RT2R T2V2T2V2 T2RT2R A2W2A2W2

IA
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The old rude church with bare bald tower is hereB
Beneath its shadow high born Rotha flowsC
Rotha remembering well who slumbers nearD
And with cool murmur lulling his reposeC
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Rotha remembering well who slumbers nearD
His hills his lakes his streams are with him yetE
Surely the heart that read her own heart clearD
Nature forgets not soon 'tis we forgetE
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We that with vagrant soul his fixityE
Have slighted faithless done his deep faith wrongF
Left him for poorer loves and bowed the kneeG
To misbegotten strange new gods of songF
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Yet led by hollow ghost or beckoning elfH
Far from her homestead to the desert bournI
The vagrant soul returning to herselfH
Wearily wise must needs to him returnJ
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To him and to the powers that with him dwellK
Inflowings that divulged not whence they cameL
And that secluded spirit unknowableM
The mystery we make darker with a nameL
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The Somewhat which we name but cannot knowN
Ev'n as we name a star and only seeG
His quenchless flashings forth which ever showN
And ever hide him and which are not heG
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IIA
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Poet who sleepest by this wandering waveO
When thou wast born what birth gift hadst thou thenP
To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gaveO
The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to menP
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Not Milton's keen translunar music thineQ
Not Shakespeare's cloudless boundless human viewR
Not Shelley's flush of rose on peaks divineQ
Nor yet the wizard twilight Coleridge knewR
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What hadst thou that could make so large amendsS
For all thou hadst not and thy peers possessedE
Motion and fire swift means to radiant endsS
Thou hadst for weary feet the gift of restE
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From Shelley's dazzling glow or thunderous hazeT
From Byron's tempest anger tempest mirthU
Men turned to thee and found not blast and blazeT
Tumult of tottering heavens but peace on earthU
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Nor peace that grows by Lethe scentless flowerV
There in white languors to decline and ceaseW
But peace whose names are also rapture powerV
Clear sight and love for these are parts of peaceW
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IIIA
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I hear it vouched the Muse is with us stillX
If less divinely frenzied than of yoreY
In lieu of feelings she has wondrous skillX
To simulate emotion felt no moreY
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Not such the authentic Presence pure that madeE
This valley vocal in the great days goneZ
In his great days while yet the spring time playedE
About him and the mighty morning shoneA2
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No word mosaic artificer he sangB2
A lofty song of lowly weal and doleC2
Right from the heart right to the heart it sprangB2
Or from the soul leapt instant to the soulC2
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He felt the charm of childhood grace of youthD2
Grandeur of age insisting to be sungE2
The impassioned argument was simple truthD2
Half wondering at its own melodious tongueE2
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Impassioned ay to the song's ecstatic coreY
But far removed were clangour storm and feudE
For plenteous health was his exceeding storeY
Of joy and an impassioned quietudeE
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IVR
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A hundred years ere he to manhood cameL
Song from celestial heights had wandered downF2
Put off her robe of sunlight dew and flameL
And donned a modish dress to charm the TownF2
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Thenceforth she but festooned the porch of thingsG2
Apt at life's lore incurious what life meantE
Dextrous of hand she struck her lute's few stringsG2
Ignobly perfect barrenly contentE
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Unflushed with ardour and unblanched with aweH2
Her lips in profitless derision curledE
She saw with dull emotion if she sawI2
The vision of the glory of the worldE
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The human masque she watched with dreamless eyesJ2
In whose clear shallows lurked no trembling shadeE
The stars unkenned by her might set and riseJ2
Unmarked by her the daisies bloom and fadeE
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The age grew sated with her sterile witE
Herself waxed weary on her loveless throneA2
Men felt life's tide the sweep and surge of itE
And craved a living voice a natural toneA2
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For none the less though song was but half trueR
The world lay common one abounding themeK2
Man joyed and wept and fate was ever newR
And love was sweet life real death no dreamK2
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In sad stern verse the rugged scholar sageL2
Bemoaned his toil unvalued youth uncheeredE
His numbers wore the vesture of the ageL2
But 'neath it beating the great heart was heardE
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From dewy pastures uplands sweet with thymeM2
A virgin breeze freshened the jaded dayE
It wafted Collins' lonely vesper chimeM2
It breathed abroad the frugal note of GrayE
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It fluttered here and there nor swept in vainN2
The dusty haunts where futile echoes dwellK
Then in a cadence soft as summer rainN2
And sad from Auburn voiceless drooped and fellK
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It drooped and fell and one 'neath northern skiesJ2
With southern heart who tilled his father's fieldE
Found Poesy a dying bade her riseJ2
And touch quick nature's hem and go forth healedE
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On life's broad plain the ploughman's conquering shareO2
Upturned the fallow lands of truth anewR
And o'er the formal garden's trim parterreO2
The peasant's team a ruthless furrow drewO2
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Bright was his going forth but clouds ere longF
Whelmed him in gloom his radiance set and thoseC
Twin morning stars of the new century's songF
Those morning stars that sang together roseC
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In elvish speech the Dreamer told his taleP2
Of marvellous oceans swept by fateful wingsG2
The Se r strayed not from earth's human paleP2
But the mysterious face of common thingsG2
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He mirrored as the moon in Rydal MereO2
Is mirrored when the breathless night hangs blueO2
Strangely remote she seems and wondrous nearO2
And by some nameless difference born anewO2
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VR
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Peace peace and rest Ah how the lyre is lothQ2
Or powerless now to give what all men seekR2
Either it deadens with ignoble slothS2
Or deafens with shrill tumult loudly weakR2
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Where is the singer whose large notes and clearO2
Can heal and arm and plenish and sustainN2
Lo one with empty music floods the earO2
And one the heart refreshing tires the brainN2
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And idly tuneful the loquacious throngF
Flutter and twitter prodigal of timeM2
And little masters make a toy of songF
Till grave men weary of the sound of rhymeM2
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And some go prankt in faded antique dressT2
Abhorring to be hale and glad and freeR
And some parade a conscious naturalnessT2
The scholar's not the child's simplicityR
-
Enough and wisest who from words forbearR
The kindly river rails not as it glidesT2
And suave and charitable the winning airR
Chides not at all or only him who chidesT2
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VIR
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Nature we storm thine ear with choric notesT2
Thou answerest through the calm great nights and daysT2
'Laud me who will not tuneless are your throatsT2
Yet if ye paused I should not miss the praise '-
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We falter half rebuked and sing againP
We chant thy desertness and haggard gloomU2
Or with thy splendid wrath inflate the strainN2
Or touch it with thy colour and perfumeU2
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One his melodious blood aflame for theeR
Wooed with fierce lust his hot heart world defiledR
One with the upward eye of infancyR
Looked in thy face and felt himself thy childR
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Thee he approached without distrust or dreadR
Beheld thee throned an awful queen aboveR
Climbed to thy lap and merely laid his headR
Against thy warm wild heart of mother loveR
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He heard that vast heart beating thou didst pressT2
Thy child so close and lov'dst him unawareR
Thy beauty gladdened him yet he scarce lessT2
Had loved thee had he never found thee fairR
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For thou wast not as legendary landsT2
To which with curious eyes and ears we roamV2
Nor wast thou as a fane mid solemn sandsT2
Where palmers halt at evening Thou wast homeV2
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And here at home still bides he but he sleepsT2
Not to be wakened even at thy wordR
Though we vague dreamers dream he somewhere keepsT2
An ear still open to thy voice still heardR
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Thy voice as heretofore about him blownA2
For ever blown about his silence nowW2
Thy voice though deeper yet so like his ownA2
That almost when he sang we deemed 'twas thouW2

William Watson



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