Sir Walter Scott- Lay of the Last Minstrel

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Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung. http://www.rampantscotland.com/poetry/blpoems_minstrel.htm Isn't it beautiful? I love the fact that it is deep and yet it rhymes. Or maybe it's not as deep as all that...Anyway, I always feel like people think rhyming poetry is not as "deep" and symbolic as blank verse....but somehow rhyming lines appeal to me more than anything else. I like to write them too....or rather they write themselves to me! lol Only once in a while...