Ex Fumo Dare Lucem - 'twixt The Cup And The Lip Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCBCDEDE FGFGHIHI GJGJKLKL MNONOFMF PQRQFCFC GSGSTUTU TTTTVTVT T GWGWXYXY ZA2ZA2ZTZT FTFTGTGT BB2BB2C2D2C2D2 FTFTTE2TE2 F2G2F2G2GH2GH2 GCGCCTCT C2 GIGIFI2FI2 GCGCCJ2CJ2 K2CK2CZCL2C TM2TM2ZN2ZN2 TC2TC2TO2TY TCTCFP2FP2 C2CC2CC2L2C2L2 TTTTGCGC CC2CC2ZYZO2 CN2CN2C2CC2C TTTTTQ2TR2 GTGTCTCT C2GC2GGS2GT2 CCCCTU2TU2

PrologueA
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Calm and clear the bright day is decliningB
The crystal expanse of the bayC
Like a shield of pure metal lies shiningB
'Twixt headlands of purple and greyC
While the little waves leap in the sunsetD
And strike with a miniature shockE
In sportive and infantine onsetD
The base of the iron stone rockE
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Calm and clear the sea breezes are ladenF
With a fragrance a freshness a powerG
With a song like the song of a maidenF
With a scent like the scent of a flowerG
And a whisper half weird half propheticH
Comes home with the sigh of the surfI
But I pause for your fancies poeticH
Never rise from the level of TurfI
-
Fellow bungler of mine fellow sinnerG
In public performances pastJ
In trials whence touts take their winnerG
In rumours that circulate fastJ
In strains from Prunella or PriamK
Staying stayers or goers that goL
You're much better posted than I amK
'Tis little I care less I knowL
-
Alas neither poet nor prophetM
Am I though a jingler of rhymesN
'Tis a hobby of mine and I'm off itO
At times and I'm on it at timesN
And whether I'm off it or on itO
Your readers my counsels will shunF
Since I scarce know Van Tromp from Blue BonnetM
Though I might know Cigar from the NunF
-
With visions you ought to be satedP
And sicken'd by this time I swearQ
That mine are all myths self createdR
Air visions that vanish in airQ
If I had some loose coins I might chuck oneF
To settle this question and sayC
Here goes this is tails for the black oneF
And heads for my fav'rite the bayC
-
And must I rob Paul to pay PeterG
Or Peter defraud to pay PaulS
My rhymes are they stale if my metreG
Is varied one chime rings through allS
One chime though I sing more or sing lessT
I have but one string to my luteU
And it might have been better if stringlessT
And songless the same had been muteU
-
Yet not as a seer of visionsT
Nor yet as a dreamer of dreamsT
I send you these partial decisionsT
On hackney'd impoverish'd themesT
But with song out of tune sung to pass timeV
Flung heedless to friends or to foesT
Where the false notes that ring for the last timeV
May blend with some real ones who knowsT
-
-
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The RaceT
-
On the hill they are crowding togetherG
In the stand they are crushing for roomW
Like midge flies they swarm on the heatherG
They gather like bees on the broomW
They flutter like moths round a candleX
Stale similes granted what thenY
I've got a stale subject to handleX
A very stale stump of a penY
-
Hark the shuffle of feet that are manyZ
Of voices the many tongued clangA2
Has he had a bad night Has he anyZ
Friends left How I hate your turf slangA2
'Tis stale to begin with not wittyZ
But dull and inclined to be coarseT
But bad men can't use more's the pityZ
Good words when they slate a good horseT
-
Heu heu quantus equis that's LatinF
For bellows to mend with the weedsT
They're off lights and shades silk and satinF
A rainbow of riders and steedsT
And one shows in front and anotherG
Goes up and is seen in his placeT
Sic transit more Latin Oh botherG
Let's get to the end of the raceT
-
-
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See they come round the last turn careeringB
Already Tait's colours are struckB2
And the green in the vanguard is steeringB
And the red's in the rear of the ruckB2
Are the stripes in the shade doom'd to lie longC2
Do the blue stars on white skies wax dimD2
Is it Tamworth or Smuggler 'Tis BylongC2
That wins either Bylong or TimD2
-
As the shell through the breach that is rivenF
And sapp'd by the springing of minesT
As the bolt from the thunder cloud drivenF
That levels the larches and pinesT
Through yon mass parti colour'd that dashesT
Goal turn'd clad in many hued garbE2
From rear to van surges and flashesT
The yellow and black of The BarbE2
-
Past The Fly falling back on the right andF2
The Gull giving way on the leftG2
Past Tamworth who feels the whip smite andF2
Whose sides by the rowels are cleftG2
Where Tim and the chestnut togetherG
Still bear of the battle the bruntH2
As if eight stone twelve were a featherG
He comes with a rush to the frontH2
-
Tim Whiffler may yet prove a TartarG
And Bylong's the horse that can stayC
But Kean is in trouble and CarterG
Is hard on the satin skinn'd bayC
And The Barb comes away unextendedC
Hard held like a second EclipseT
While behind the hoof thunder is blendedC
With the whistling and crackling of whipsT
-
-
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EpilogueC2
-
He wins yes he wins upon paperG
He hasn't yet won upon turfI
And these rhymes are but moonshine and vapourG
Air bubbles and spume from the surfI
So be it at least they are givenF
Free gratis for just what they're worthI2
And whatever there may be in heavenF
There's little worth much upon earthI2
-
When with satellites round them the centreG
Of all eyes hard press'd by the crowdC
The pair horse and rider re enterG
The gate 'mid a shout long and loudC
You may feel as you might feel just landedC
Full length on the grass from the clipJ2
Of a vicious cross counter right handedC
Or upper cut whizzing from hipJ2
-
And that's not so bad if you're pick'd upK2
Discreetly and carefully nursedC
Loose teeth by the sponge are soon lick'd upK2
And next time you MAY get home firstC
Still I'm not sure you'd like it exactlyZ
Such tastes as a rule are acquiredC
And you'll find in a nutshell this fact lieL2
Bruised optics are not much admiredC
-
Do I bore you with vulgar allusionsT
Forgive me I speak as I feelM2
I've pondered and made my conclusionsT
As the mill grinds the corn to the mealM2
So man striving boldly but blindlyZ
Ground piecemeal in Destiny's millN2
At his best taking punishment kindlyZ
Is only a chopping block stillN2
-
Are we wise Our abstruse calculationsT
Are based on experience longC2
Are we sanguine Our high expectationsT
Are founded on hope that is strongC2
Thus we build an air castle that crumblesT
And drifts till no traces remainO2
And the fool builds again while he grumblesT
And the wise one laughs building againY
-
How came they to pass these rash blundersT
These false steps so hard to defendC
Our friend puts the question and wondersT
We laugh and reply Ah my friendC
Could you trace the first stride falsely takenF
The distance misjudged where or howP2
When you pick'd yourself up stunn'd and shakenF
At the fence 'twixt the turf and the ploughP2
-
In the jar of the panel reboundingC2
In the crash of the splintering woodC
In the ears to the earth shock resoundingC2
In the eyes flashing fire and bloodC
In the quarters above you revolvingC2
In the sods underneath heaving highL2
There was little to aid you in solvingC2
Such questions the how or the whyL2
-
And destiny steadfast in triflesT
Is steadfast for better or worseT
In great things it crushes and stiflesT
And swallows the hopes that we nurseT
Men wiser than we are may wonderG
When the future they cling to so fastC
To the roll of that destiny's thunderG
Goes down with the wrecks of the pastC
-
-
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The past the dead past that has swallow'dC
All the honey of life and the milkC2
Brighter dreams than mere pastimes we've follow'dC
Better things than our scarlet or silkC2
Aye and worse things that past is it reallyZ
Dead to us who again and againY
Feel sharply hear plainly see clearlyZ
Past days with their joy and their painO2
-
Like corpses embalm'd and unburiedC
They lie and in spite of our willN2
Our souls on the wings of thought carriedC
Revisit their sepulchres stillN2
Down the channels of mystery glidingC2
They conjure strange tales rarely readC
Of the priests of dead Pharaohs presidingC2
At mystical feasts of the deadC
-
Weird pictures arise quaint devicesT
Rude emblems baked funeral meatsT
Strong incense rare wines and rich spicesT
The ashes the shrouds and the sheetsT
Does our thraldom fall short of completenessT
For the magic of a charnel house charmQ2
And the flavour of a poisonous sweetnessT
And the odour of a poisonous balmR2
-
And the links of the past but no matterG
For I'm getting beyond you I guessT
And you'll call me as mad as a hatterG
If my thoughts I too freely expressT
I subjoin a quotation pray learn itC
And with the aid of your lexicon tell usT
The meaning thereof Res discernitC
Sapiens quas confundit asellusT
-
Already green hillocks are swellingC2
And combing white locks on the barG
Where a dull droning murmur is tellingC2
Of winds that have gather'd afarG
Thus we know not the day nor the morrowG
Nor yet what the night may bring forthS2
Nor the storm nor the sleep nor the sorrowG
Nor the strife nor the rest nor the wrathT2
-
Yet the skies are still tranquil and starlitC
The sun 'twixt the wave and the westC
Dies in purple and crimson and scarletC
And gold let us hope for the bestC
Since again from the earth his effulgenceT
The darkness and damp dews shall wipeU2
Kind reader extend your indulgenceT
To this the last lay of The PipeU2

Adam Lindsay Gordon



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