Elegy On An Australian Schoolboy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCD DEDEFGFG HDHDIJKJ LMLMNJNJ OJOJPJPJ QRQRSASA TUTUJVJV WXWXJYJY

I would not curse your England wise as slowA
Just as unjust in deedB
I can believe that from her heart may flowA
The truest human creedB
She sounded one high call of LibertyC
That despots heard with dreadD
I know not what high purpose to be freeC
Crowns yet her starry headD
-
Do I but raise a ghost Is England deadD
Lies she in lands forlornE
Shall Kentish orchards never hear the treadD
Of eager life at mornE
Is she but memories of old men and sadF
Since youth has left her sideG
Has that vast glory that you dreamed she hadF
But perished crucifiedG
-
England Though all her vaunted heroes riseH
From Nile to Flanders redD
Calling you from the long red sunset skiesH
You shall remain still deadD
You shall not touch her woods and flowers againI
You shall not sail her ThamesJ
You shall not see in her soft April rainK
The fairy diademsJ
-
She cannot honour you You do not feelL
Her tears and pity deepM
Though all her multitudes in homage kneelL
That cannot break your sleepM
That cannot give you back the dew of earthN
The light upon the seaJ
The soft sweet ripple of your child s first mirthN
Your immortalityJ
-
In every man there is a great new worldO
Perhaps a glorious raceJ
How can we tell the hero that war hurledO
To death bore not Christ s faceJ
How can we tell what nobler nations lieP
Now on the fields of FranceJ
What unborn masters of creation cryP
Through murdered white romanceJ
-
I only know you brother of my bloodQ
Have gone and many a friendR
Trampled and broken in the Flanders mudQ
Found Youth s most bitter endR
God You are not yet one with the kind dustS
Before new war horns blowA
And sleek limbed statesmen in their halls break trustS
To tell of other woeA
-
I speak as if you heard me O my dearT
From England s far off shoreU
As if that land fills me with such fearT
Held you not evermoreU
I live too much to feel that death must beJ
Though men make death to dayV
I will not set the blame on DeityJ
Of murder tunes they playV
-
And yet you have not uttered one poor wordW
While these harsh thoughts I weaveX
Silent as God No murmur have I heardW
Tis I not you who grieveX
How should I move that vast eternityJ
Enough loud my cries and wildY
No more am I regarded than the seaJ
Regards a brawling childY

Zora Bernice May Cross



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