Written In Germany, On One Of The Coldest Days Of The Century Poem Rhyme Scheme

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A plague on your languages German and Norse	A
Let me have the song of the kettle	B
And the tongs and the poker instead of that horse	A
That gallops away with such fury and force	A
On this dreary dull plate of black metal	B
	-
See that Fly a disconsolate creature perhaps	C
A child of the field or the grove	D
And sorrow for him the dull treacherous heat	E
Has seduced the poor fool from his winter retreat	E
And he creeps to the edge of my stove	D
	-
Alas how he fumbles about the domains	F
Which this comfortless oven environ	G
He cannot find out in what track he must crawl	H
Now back to the tiles then in search of the wall	H
And now on the brink of the iron	G
	-
Stock still there he stands like a traveller bemazed	E
The best of his skill he has tried	E
His feelers methinks I can see him put forth	I
To the east and the west to the south and the north	I
But he finds neither guide post nor guide	E
	-
His spindles sink under him foot leg and thigh	J
His eyesight and hearing are lost	E
Between life and death his blood freezes and thaws	K
And his two pretty pinions of blue dusky gauze	K
Are glued to his sides by the frost	E
	-
No brother no mate has he near him while I	J
Can draw warmth from the cheek of my Love	L
As blest and as glad in this desolate gloom	M
As if green summer grass were the floor of my room	M
And woodbines were hanging above	L
	-
Yet God is my witness thou small helpless Thing	N
Thy life I would gladly sustain	G
Till summer come up from the south and with crowds	O
Of thy brethren a march thou should'st sound through the clouds	O
And back to the forests again	G

William Wordsworth

Written In Germany, On One Of The Coldest Days Of The Century Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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