Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Slant Rhyme:
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;alliteration:This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
repetition ;Which by and by black night doth take away,
Alliteration: What I was walling in or walling out
Consonance: but spring mending time we find them there.
Internal Rhyme: where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Consonance: Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Assonance: In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
Alliteration: What I was walling in or walling out.
Assonance: Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.