The Epic Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNNOPQRS TUUCVWXNYNZCA2DNGB2C 2D2UE2OUNNF2G2H2H2NH 2| At Francis Allen's on the Christmas eve | A |
| The game of forfeits done the girls all kiss'd | B |
| Beneath the sacred bush and past away | C |
| The parson Holmes the poet Everard Hall | D |
| The host and I sat round the wassail bowl | E |
| Then half way ebb'd and there we held a talk | F |
| How all the old honour had from Christmas gone | G |
| Or gone or dwindled down to some odd games | H |
| In some odd nooks like this till I tired out | I |
| With cutting eights that day upon the pond | J |
| Where three times slipping from the outer edge | K |
| I bump'd the ice into three several stars | L |
| Fell in a doze and half awake I heard | M |
| The parson taking wide and wider sweeps | N |
| Now harping on the church commissionners | N |
| Now hawking at Geology and schism | O |
| Until I woke and found him settled down | P |
| Upon the general decay of faith | Q |
| Right thro' the world 'at home was little left | R |
| And none abroad there was no anchor none | S |
| To hold by ' Francis laughing clapt his hand | T |
| On Everard's shoulder with 'I hold by him ' | U |
| 'And I ' quoth Everard 'by the wassail bowl ' | U |
| 'Why yes ' I said 'we knew your gift that way | C |
| At college but another which you had | V |
| I mean of verse for so we held it then | W |
| What came of that ' 'You know ' said Frank 'he burnt | X |
| His epic his King Arthur some twelve books' | N |
| And then to me demanding why 'Oh sir | Y |
| He thought that nothing new was said or else | N |
| Something so said 'twas nothing that a truth | Z |
| Looks freshest in the fashion of the clay | C |
| God knows he has a mint of reasons ask | A2 |
| It pleased me well enough ' 'Nay nay ' said Hall | D |
| 'Why take the style of those heroic times | N |
| For nature brings not back the Mastodon | G |
| Nor we those times and why should any man | B2 |
| Remodel models these twelve books of mine | C2 |
| Were faint Homeric echoes nothing worth | D2 |
| Mere chaff and draft much better burnt ' 'But I ' | U |
| Said Francis 'pick'd the eleventh from this hearth | E2 |
| And have it keep a thing its use will come | O |
| I hoard it as a sugar plum for Holmes ' | U |
| He laugh'd and I tho' sleepy like a horse | N |
| That hears the corn bin open prick'd my ears | N |
| For I remember'd Everard's college fame | F2 |
| When we were Freshmen then at my request | G2 |
| He brought it and the poet little urged | H2 |
| But with some prelude of disparagement | H2 |
| Read mouthing out his hollow oes and aes | N |
| Deep chested music and to this result | H2 |
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1)
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The Epic is a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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