Guilt And Sorrow Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCBCCDCDD A EFGFHIJII A KALAAMLMM A NLNLLBLBB A OPOQQDQDD A LRLSTURUU A VWVWWLWLL A XYXYYGZGG V AA2AA2A2AA2AA V ABABBUBUU A VB2VB2B2C2D2C2C2 V E2A2E2A2A2F2A2F2F2 V F2VF2VVF2VF2F2 A G2LG2LLH2LBB A I2C2I2C2C2F2C2F2F2 A J2K2J2L2L2F2L2F2F2 A VF2VF2F2BF2BB A F2VF2VVVVVV V K2F2I | A |
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A traveller on the skirt of Sarum's Plain | B |
Pursued his vagrant way with feet half bare | C |
Stooping his gait but not as if to gain | B |
Help from the staff he bore for mien and air | C |
Were hardy though his cheek seemed worn with care | C |
Both of the time to come and time long fled | D |
Down fell in straggling locks his thin grey hair | C |
A coat he wore of military red | D |
But faded and stuck o'er with many a patch and shred | D |
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II | A |
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While thus he journeyed step by step led on | E |
He saw and passed a stately inn full sure | F |
That welcome in such house for him was none | G |
No board inscribed the needy to allure | F |
Hung there no bush proclaimed to old and poor | H |
And desolate Here you will find a friend | I |
The pendent grapes glittered above the door | J |
On he must pace perchance 'till night descend | I |
Where'er the dreary roads their bare white lines extend | I |
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III | A |
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The gathering clouds grow red with stormy fire | K |
In streaks diverging wide and mounting high | A |
That inn he long had passed the distant spire | L |
Which oft as he looked back had fixed his eye | A |
Was lost though still he looked in the blank sky | A |
Perplexed and comfortless he gazed around | M |
And scarce could any trace of man descry | L |
Save cornfields stretched and stretching without bound | M |
But where the sower dwelt was nowhere to be found | M |
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IV | A |
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No tree was there no meadow's pleasant green | N |
No brook to wet his lip or soothe his ear | L |
Long files of corn stacks here and there were seen | N |
But not one dwelling place his heart to cheer | L |
Some labourer thought he may perchance be near | L |
And so he sent a feeble shout in vain | B |
No voice made answer he could only hear | L |
Winds rustling over plots of unripe grain | B |
Or whistling thro' thin grass along the unfurrowed plain | B |
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V | A |
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Long had he fancied each successive slope | O |
Concealed some cottage whither he might turn | P |
And rest but now along heaven's darkening cope | O |
The crows rushed by in eddies homeward borne | Q |
Thus warned he sought some shepherd's spreading thorn | Q |
Or hovel from the storm to shield his head | D |
But sought in vain for now all wild forlorn | Q |
And vacant a huge waste around him spread | D |
The wet cold ground he feared must be his only bed | D |
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VI | A |
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And be it so for to the chill night shower | L |
And the sharp wind his head he oft hath bared | R |
A Sailor he who many a wretched hour | L |
Hath told for landing after labour hard | S |
Full long endured in hope of just reward | T |
He to an armed fleet was forced away | U |
By seamen who perhaps themselves had shared | R |
Like fate was hurried off a helpless prey | U |
'Gainst all that in 'his' heart or theirs perhaps said nay | U |
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VII | A |
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For years the work of carnage did not cease | V |
And death's dire aspect daily he surveyed | W |
Death's minister then came his glad release | V |
And hope returned and pleasure fondly made | W |
Her dwelling in his dreams By Fancy's aid | W |
The happy husband flies his arms to throw | L |
Round his wife's neck the prize of victory laid | W |
In her full lap he sees such sweet tears flow | L |
As if thenceforth nor pain nor trouble she could know | L |
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VIII | A |
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Vain hope for frand took all that he had earned | X |
The lion roars and gluts his tawny brood | Y |
Even in the desert's heart but he returned | X |
Bears not to those he loves their needful food | Y |
His home approaching but in such a mood | Y |
That from his sight his children might have run | G |
He met a traveller robbed him shed his blood | Z |
And when the miserable work was done | G |
He fled a vagrant since the murderer's fate to shun | G |
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IX | V |
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From that day forth no place to him could be | A |
So lonely but that thence might come a pang | A2 |
Brought from without to inward misery | A |
Now as he plodded on with sullen clang | A2 |
A sound of chains along the desert rang | A2 |
He looked and saw upon a gibbet high | A |
A human body that in irons swang | A2 |
Uplifted by the tempest whirling by | A |
And hovering round it often did a raven fly | A |
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X | V |
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It was a spectacle which none might view | A |
In spot so savage but with shuddering pain | B |
Nor only did for him at once renew | A |
All he had feared from man but roused a train | B |
Of the mind's phantoms horrible as vain | B |
The stones as if to cover him from day | U |
Rolled at his back along the living plain | B |
He fell and without sense or motion lay | U |
But when the trance was gone feebly pursued his way | U |
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XI | A |
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As one whose brain habitual phrensy fires | V |
Owes to the fit in which his soul hath tossed | B2 |
Profounder quiet when the fit retires | V |
Even so the dire phantasma which had crossed | B2 |
His sense in sudden vacancy quite lost | B2 |
Left his mind still as a deep evening stream | C2 |
Nor if accosted now in thought engrossed | D2 |
Moody or inly troubled would he seem | C2 |
To traveller who might talk of any casual theme | C2 |
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XII | V |
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Hurtle the clouds in deeper darkness piled | E2 |
Gone is the raven timely rest to seek | A2 |
He seemed the only creature in the wild | E2 |
On whom the elements their rage might wreak | A2 |
Save that the bustard of those regions bleak | A2 |
Shy tenant seeing by the uncertain light | F2 |
A man there wandering gave a mournful shriek | A2 |
And half upon the ground with strange affright | F2 |
Forced hard against the wind a thick unwieldy flight | F2 |
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XIII | V |
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All all was cheerless to the horizon's bound | F2 |
The weary eye which wheresoe'er it strays | V |
Marks nothing but the red sun's setting round | F2 |
Or on the earth strange lines in former days | V |
Left by gigantic arms at length surveys | V |
What seems an antique castle spreading wide | F2 |
Hoary and naked are its walls and raise | V |
Their brow sublime in shelter there to bide | F2 |
He turned while rain poured down smoking on every side | F2 |
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XIV | A |
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Pile of Stone henge so proud to hint yet keep | G2 |
Thy secrets thou that lov'st to stand and hear | L |
The Plain resounding to the whirlwind's sweep | G2 |
Inmate of lonesome Nature's endless year | L |
Even if thou saw'st the giant wicker rear | L |
For sacrifice its throngs of living men | H2 |
Before thy face did ever wretch appear | L |
Who in his heart had groaned with deadlier pain | B |
Than he who tempest driven thy shelter now would gain | B |
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XV | A |
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Within that fabric of mysterious form | I2 |
Winds met in conflict each by turns supreme | C2 |
And from the perilous ground dislodged through storm | I2 |
And rain he wildered on no moon to stream | C2 |
From gulf of parting clouds one friendly beam | C2 |
Nor any friendly sound his footsteps led | F2 |
Once did the lightning's faint disastrous gleam | C2 |
Disclose a naked guide post's double head | F2 |
Sight which tho' lost at once a gleam of pleasure shed | F2 |
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XVI | A |
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No swinging sign board creaked from cottage elm | J2 |
To stay his steps with faintness overcome | K2 |
'Twas dark and void as ocean's watery realm | J2 |
Roaring with storms beneath night's starless gloom | L2 |
No gipsy cowered o'er fire of furze or broom | L2 |
No labourer watched his red kiln glaring bright | F2 |
Nor taper glimmered dim from sick man's room | L2 |
Along the waste no line of mournful light | F2 |
From lamp of lonely toll gate streamed athwart the night | F2 |
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XVII | A |
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At length though hid in clouds the moon arose | V |
The downs were visible and now revealed | F2 |
A structure stands which two bare slopes enclose | V |
It was a spot where ancient vows fulfilled | F2 |
Kind pious hands did to the Virgin build | F2 |
A lonely Spital the belated swain | B |
From the night terrors of that waste to shield | F2 |
But there no human being could remain | B |
And now the walls are named the Dead House of the plain | B |
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XVIII | A |
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Though he had little cause to love the abode | F2 |
Of man or covet sight of mortal face | V |
Yet when faint beams of light that ruin showed | F2 |
How glad he was at length to find some trace | V |
Of human shelter in that dreary place | V |
Till to his flock the early shepherd goes | V |
Here shall much needed sleep his frame embrace | V |
In a dry nook where fern the floor bestrows | V |
He lays his stiffened limbs his eyes begin to close | V |
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XIX | V |
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When hearing a deep sigh that seemed to come | K2 |
From one who mourned in sleep he raised his head | F2 |
And saw a w | - |
William Wordsworth
(1)
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