To The Daisy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDDC EEECFFFC GGHIIIII EEIDJJJD KKKCLLLC MMMNIIIN OOOMEEEM PPPEIIIE IIIDEEED NNNIGHGI

IN youth from rock to rock I wentA
From hill to hill in discontentA
Of pleasure high and turbulentB
Most pleased when most uneasyC
But now my own delights I makeD
Thirst at every rill can slakeD
And gladly Nature's love partakeD
Of Thee sweet DaisyC
-
Thee Winter in the garland wearsE
That thinly decks his few gray hairsE
Spring parts the clouds with softest airsE
That she may sun theeC
Whole Summer fields are thine by rightF
And Autumn melancholy WightF
Doth in thy crimson head delightF
When rains are on theeC
-
In shoals and bands a morrice trainG
Thou greet'st the traveller in the laneG
Pleased at his greeting thee againH
Yet nothing dauntedI
Nor grieved if thou be set at noughtI
And oft alone in nooks remoteI
We meet thee like a pleasant thoughtI
When such are wantedI
-
Be violets in their secret mewsE
The flowers the wanton Zephyrs chooseE
Proud be the rose with rains and dewI
Her head impearlingD
Thou liv'st with less ambitious aimJ
Yet hast not gone without thy fameJ
Thou art indeed by many a claimJ
The Poet's darlingD
-
If to a rock from rain he flyK
Or some bright day of April skyK
Imprisoned by hot sunshine lieK
Near the green hollyC
And wearily at length should fareL
He need but look about and thereL
Thou art a friend at hand to careL
His melancholyC
-
A hundred times by rock or bowerM
Ere thus I have lain couched an hourM
Have I derived from thy sweet powerM
Some apprehensionN
Some steady love some brief delightI
Some memory that had taken flightI
Some chime of fancy wrong or rightI
Of stray inventionN
-
If stately passions in me burnO
And one chance look to Thee should turnO
I drink out of an humbler urnO
A lowlier pleasureM
The homely sympathy that heedsE
The common life our nature breedsE
A wisdom fitted to the needsE
Of hearts at leisureM
-
Fresh smitten by the morning rayP
When thou art up alert and gayP
Then cheerful Flower my spirits playP
With kindred gladnessE
And when at dusk by dews opprestI
Thou sink'st the image of thy restI
Hath often eased my pensive breastI
Of careful sadnessE
-
And all day long I number yetI
All seasons through another debtI
Which I wherever thou art metI
To thee am owingD
An instinct call it a blind senseE
A happy genial influenceE
Coming one knows not how nor whenceE
Nor whither goingD
-
Child of the Year that round dost runN
Thy pleasant course when day's begunN
As ready to salute the sunN
As lark or leveretI
Thy long lost praise thou shalt regainG
Nor be less dear to future menH
Than in old time thou not in vainG
Art Nature's favouriteI

William Wordsworth



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