Analysis of First Sunday After Easter
First Father of the holy seed,
If yet, invoked in hour of need,
Thou count me for Thine own
Not quite an outcast if I prove,
(Thou joy'st in miracles of love),
Hear, from Thy mercy-throne!
Upon Thine altar's horn of gold
Help me to lay my trembling hold,
Though stained with Christian gore; -
The blood of souls by Thee redeemed,
But, while I roved or idly dreamed,
Lost to be found no more.
For oft, when summer leaves were bright,
And every flower was bathed in light,
In sunshine moments past,
My wilful heart would burst away
From where the holy shadow lay,
Where heaven my lot had cast.
I thought it scorn with Thee to dwell,
A Hermit in a silent cell,
While, gaily sweeping by,
Wild Fancy blew his bugle strain,
And marshalled all his gallant train
In the world's wondering eye.
I would have joined him--but as oft
Thy whispered warnings, kind and soft,
My better soul confessed.
"My servant, let the world alone -
Safe on the steps of Jesus' throne
Be tranquil and be blest."
"Seems it to thee a niggard hand
That nearest Heaven has bade thee stand,
The ark to touch and bear,
With incense of pure heart's desire
To heap the censer's sacred fire,
The snow-white Ephod wear?"
Why should we crave the worldling's wreath,
On whom the Savour deigned to breathe,
To whom His keys were given,
Who lead the choir where angels meet,
With angels' food our brethren greet,
And pour the drink of Heaven?
When sorrow all our heart would ask,
We need not shun our daily task,
And hide ourselves for calm;
The herbs we seek to heal our woe
Familiar by our pathway grow,
Our common air is balm.
Around each pure domestic shrine
Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine,
Our hearths are altars all;
The prayers of hungry souls and poor,
Like armed angels at the door,
Our unseen foes appal.
Alms all around and hymns within -
What evil eye can entrance win
Where guards like these abound?
If chance some heedless heart should roam,
Sure, thought of these will lure it home
Ere lost in Folly's round.
O joys, that sweetest in decay,
Fall not, like withered leaves, away,
But with the silent breath
Of violets drooping one by one,
Soon as their fragrant task is done,
Are wafted high in death!
Scheme | AABXXB CCDEED FFGHHG IIJKKJ XXLBBL MMNOON XXPQQP RRSTTS UUXXDI VVWXXW HHYPPY |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11010101 110101011 111111 1111111 111010011 111101 0111111 111111001 111101 01111101 11111101 111111 11110101 0100101101 01101 1111101 1101011 1101111 11111111 01000101 110101 11011101 01011101 0011001 11111111 11010101 110101 11010101 11011101 110011 11110101 110101111 011101 101111010 11011010 01111 1111011 1101111 1111010 110101101 110110101 0101110 110110111 111110101 0100111 011111101 01011011 1010111 01110101 110110101 1011101 01110101 1110101 100111 11010101 11011101 111101 1111111 11111111 11011 11110001 11110101 110101 110010111 11110111 110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,167 |
Words | 405 |
Sentences | 14 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 66 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 154 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 36 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:03 min read
- 67 Views
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"First Sunday After Easter" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23570/first-sunday-after-easter>.
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