Poet Adam Lindsay Gordon

Adam Lindsay Gordon

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Verses Inspired By 'my Old Black Pipe' Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDDC EEFC C CCCGHHHG IIJKKKJ KKKC KKC LLLMML KKLCCCL NNJFFJ KKFFFF JJJCOOOC KKPLQP KKKKR R

Aye Many a sport old Homer namesA
By Achilles held ' at his little games 'B
On the banks of the swift ScamanderC
And Pindar sings the Olympian deedsD
Of the ivory car and the milk white steedsD
Of Catullus or LysanderC
-
How clouds of dust aloft were spurn'dE
By wheels that grazed the goals as they turn'dE
Till the bright sparks flicker'd redlyF
How the strains of mingled mirth and furyC
That swell'd in the chant of ' Morituri '-
Proclaimed when the sports were deadlyC
-
Ah little we cared for classic loreC
When Greek was a task and Latin a boreC
In school days that are deemed of yoreC
And who will venture to chide usG
If better we loved the play field greenH
And the black thorn hedge that served as a screenH
In the mills that settled our boyish spleenH
From the tutor's eyes to hide usG
-
Who envies the bygone days of oldI
They never were half so good as we're toldI
Their loss is not worth bewailingJ
We have seen young Camel's slashing strideK
And Archer's rush and Mormon's prideK
And the deer like bound of InglesideK
At ' five foot three ' of a palingJ
-
We've seen how the side of Falcon bledK
And the hopes of Arinna's backers fledK
When the Rose of Denmark shot aheadK
And never again they caught herC
How false were the shouts of ' Barwon's first '-
When she came 'from the distance home' with a burstK
And the favourite's friends devoutly cursedK
Old Premier's gamest daughterC
-
What cheers for King Alfred's white faced sonL
Were heard when the Western chase was doneL
And the judge's verdict givenL
While Vandyke fell in the beaten ranksM
And the red spots showed on the mare's great flanksM
How vainly the steel was drivenL
-
And with anxious longing we wait the dayK
When the prads must strip for the coming frayK
To be criticized in rotationL
But to spot the winner we well not tryC
For a mist obscures our mental eyeC
And we have not the power of prophecyC
Nor the spirit of divinationL
-
Yet in fancy's glass we may scan the courseN
And hear the bookmaker's challenge hoarseN
The odds incessantly dunningJ
We may watch the starter's signal fallF
And the nags may picture one and allF
For a Cup in a cluster runningJ
-
And mark as they sweep before the standK
How Ebor is going well in handK
And Banker is pulling doubleF
How longer each moment grows the tailF
As one by one the outsiders failF
To get into grief and troubleF
-
How Trainor pulls out of Waldock's trackJ
And Morrison steadies the Caulfield crackJ
While up on the right comes the rose and blackJ
Like an eagle that scents the plunderC
How round the turn they jostle and crushO
And Simpson clears his whip for a rushO
And then on the crowd comes a lull and a hushO
And then a roar like thunderC
-
And when Beaufort collars the Western petK
Then Greek meets Greek unconquered yetK
And the tug of war commencesP
As stride for stride with the stoke of oneL
Like greyhounds running with couples onQ
Together they fly their fencesP
-
There ' Vates ' and ' Rhyming Richard ' tooK
Can tell much better than I or youK
What nags are likely the trick to doK
Nor will I their judgement sneer atK
If the gift of second sight were mineR
I'd make a fortune and then ' I'd shine '-
But I haven't got it and so I'll signR
' Qui Meruit Palmam Ferat '-

Adam Lindsay Gordon



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