Analysis of Third Sunday In Advent
What went ye out to see
O'er the rude sandy lea,
Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm,
Or where Gennesaret's wave
Delights the flowers to lave,
That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm.
All through the summer night,
Those blossoms red and bright
Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the breeze,
Like hermits watching still
Around the sacred hill,
Where erst our Saviour watched upon His knees.
The Paschal moon above
Seems like a saint to rove,
Left shining in the world with Christ alone;
Below, the lake's still face
Sleeps sweetly in th' embrace
Of mountains terrac'd high with mossy stone.
Here may we sit, and dream
Over the heavenly theme,
Till to our soul the former days return;
Till on the grassy bed,
Where thousands once He fed,
The world's incarnate Maker we discern.
O cross no more the main,
Wandering so will and vain,
To count the reeds that tremble in the wind,
On listless dalliance bound,
Like children gazing round,
Who on God's works no seal of Godhead find.
Bask not in courtly bower,
Or sun-bright hall of power,
Pass Babel quick, and seek the holy land -
From robes of Tyrian dye
Turn with undazzled eye
To Bethlehem's glade, or Carmel's haunted strand.
Or choose thee out a cell
In Kedron's storied dell,
Beside the springs of Love, that never die;
Among the olives kneel
The chill night-blast to feel,
And watch the Moon that saw thy Master's agony.
Then rise at dawn of day,
And wind thy thoughtful way,
Where rested once the Temple's stately shade,
With due feet tracing round
The city's northern bound,
To th' other holy garden, where the Lord was laid.
Who thus alternate see
His death and victory,
Rising and falling as on angel wings,
They, while they seem to roam,
Draw daily nearer home,
Their heart untravell'd still adores the King of kings.
Or, if at home they stay,
Yet are they, day by day,
In spirit journeying through the glorious land,
Not for light Fancy's reed,
Nor Honour's purple meed,
Nor gifted Prophet's lore, nor Science' wondrous wand.
But more than Prophet, more
Than Angels can adore
With face unveiled, is He they go to seek:
Blessed be God, Whose grace
Shows Him in every place
To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and meek.
Scheme | AABCCB DDEFFE XXGHHG IIJKKJ LLMNNM OOPQQP RRQSSA TTUNNU AAVWWV TTPXDX XXYHHY |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 111111 1001101 11010111001 1111 0101011 11001011111 110101 110101 11111101 110101 010101 1110110111 010101 110111 1100011101 010111 11001101 110101111 111101 1001001 11101010101 110101 110111 0101010101 111101 1001101 1101110001 1101001 110101 111111111 1101010 1111110 1101010101 11111 1111 110111101 111101 01101 0101111101 010101 011111 010111110100 111111 011101 1101010101 111101 010101 11110101010111 111001 110100 1001011101 111111 110101 1111010111 111111 111111 010100101001 11111 11101 11011110101 111101 110101 1101111111 11111 1101001 111110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,225 |
Words | 393 |
Sentences | 12 |
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) | 156 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 36 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:03 min read
- 69 Views
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"Third Sunday In Advent" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23640/third-sunday-in-advent>.
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