Ode Of Wit Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEE FFGGHHII JJKLMNOO PPQQQQRI SSIITTUR RRRIRRVV WWXUYYZZ RRA2A2QQQY B2B2YYC2C2RR| Tell me O tell what kind of thing is Wit | A |
| Thou who Master art of it | A |
| For the First matter loves Variety less | B |
| Less Women love't either in Love or Dress | B |
| A thousand different shapes it bears | C |
| Comely in thousand shapes appears | D |
| Yonder we saw it plain and here 'tis now | E |
| Like Spirits in a Place we know not How | E |
| - | |
| London that vents of false Ware so much store | F |
| In no Ware deceives us more | F |
| For men led by the Colour and the Shape | G |
| Like Zeuxes Birds fly to the painted Grape | G |
| Some things do through our Judgment pass | H |
| As through a Multiplying Glass | H |
| And sometimes if the Object be too far | I |
| We take a Falling Meteor for a Star | I |
| - | |
| Hence 'tis a Wit that greatest word of Fame | J |
| Grows such a common Name | J |
| And Wits by our Creation they become | K |
| Just so as Tit'lar Bishops made at Rome | L |
| 'Tis not a Tale 'tis not a Jest | M |
| Admir'd with Laughter at a feast | N |
| Nor florid Talk which can that Title gain | O |
| The Proofs of Wit for ever must remain | O |
| - | |
| 'Tis not to force some lifeless Verses meet | P |
| With their five gowty feet | P |
| All ev'ry where like Mans must be the Soul | Q |
| And Reason the Inferior Powers controul | Q |
| Such were the Numbers which could call | Q |
| The Stones into the Theban wall | Q |
| Such Miracles are ceast and now we see | R |
| No Towns or Houses rais'd by Poetrie | I |
| - | |
| Yet 'tis not to adorn and gild each part | S |
| That shows more Cost then Art | S |
| Jewels at Nose and Lips but ill appear | I |
| Rather then all things Wit let none be there | I |
| Several Lights will not be seen | T |
| If there be nothing else between | T |
| Men doubt because they stand so thick i'th' skie | U |
| If those be Stars which paint the Galaxie | R |
| - | |
| 'Tis not when two like words make up one noise | R |
| Jests for Dutch Men and English Boys | R |
| In which who finds out Wit the same may see | R |
| In An'grams and Acrostiques Poetrie | I |
| Much less can that have any place | R |
| At which a Virgin hides her face | R |
| Such Dross the Fire must purge away 'tis just | V |
| The Author Blush there where the Reader must | V |
| - | |
| 'Tis not such Lines as almost crack the Stage | W |
| When Bajazet begins to rage | W |
| Nor a tall Meta'phor in the Bombast way | X |
| Nor the dry chips of short lung'd Seneca | U |
| Nor upon all things to obtrude | Y |
| And force some odd Similitude | Y |
| What is it then which like the Power Divine | Z |
| We only can by Negatives define | Z |
| - | |
| In a true piece of Wit all things must be | R |
| Yet all things there agree | R |
| As in the Ark joyn'd without force or strife | A2 |
| All Creatures dwelt all Creatures that had Life | A2 |
| Or as the Primitive Forms of all | Q |
| If we compare great things with small | Q |
| Which without Discord or Confusion lie | Q |
| In that strange Mirror of the Deitie | Y |
| - | |
| But Love that moulds One Man up out of Two | B2 |
| Makes me forget and injure you | B2 |
| I took you for my self sure when I thought | Y |
| That you in any thing were to be Taught | Y |
| Correct my error with thy Pen | C2 |
| And if any ask me then | C2 |
| What thing right Wit and height of Genius is | R |
| I'll onely shew your Lines and say 'Tis This | R |
Abraham Cowley
(1)
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