A Post-impressionist Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Peter Wilson A R A	A
In his small atelier	B
Studied Continental Schools	C
Drew by Academic rules	C
So he made his bid for fame	D
But no golden answer came	D
For the fashion of his day	E
Chanced to set the other way	E
And decadent forms of Art	F
Drew the patrons of the mart	F
	-
Now this poor reward of merit	G
Rankled so in Peter's spirit	G
It was more than he could bear	B
So one night in mad despair	B
He took his canvas for the year	B
Isle of Wight from Southsea Pier	B
And he hurled it from his sight	H
Hurled it blindly to the night	H
Saw it fall diminuendo	H
From the open lattice window	H
Till it landed with a flop	I
On the dust bin's ashen top	I
Where 'mid damp and rain and grime	J
It remained till morning time	J
	-
Then when morning brought reflection	K
He was shamed at his dejection	K
And he thought with consternation	K
Of his poor ill used creation	K
Down he rushed and found it there	B
Lying all exposed and bare	B
Mud bespattered spoiled and botched	H
Water sodden fungus blotched	H
All the outlines blurred and wavy	L
All the colours turned to gravy	L
Fluids of a dappled hue	M
Blues on red and reds on blue	M
A pea green mother with her daughter	B
Crazy boats on crazy water	B
Steering out to who knows what	H
An island or a lobster pot	H
	-
Oh the wretched man's despair	B
Was it lost beyond repair	B
Swift he bore it from below	H
Hastened to the studio	H
Where with anxious eyes he studied	H
If the ruin blotched and muddied	H
Could by any human skill	N
Be made a normal picture still	N
	-
Thus in most repentant mood	H
Unhappy Peter Wilson stood	H
When with pompous face self centred	H
Willoughby the critic entered mdash	O
He of whom it has been said	H
He lives a century ahead mdash	O
And sees with his prophetic eye	P
The forms which Time will justify	P
A fact which surely must abate	H
All longing to reincarnate	H
	-
Ah Wilson said the famous man	K
Turning himself the walls to scan	K
The same old style of thing I trace	Q
Workmanlike but commonplace	Q
Believe me sir the work that lives	R
Must furnish more than Nature gives	R
'The light that never was ' you know	H
That is your mark but here hullo	N
	-
What's this What's this Magnificent	H
I've wronged you Wilson I repent	H
A masterpiece A perfect thing	S
What atmosphere What colouring	S
Spanish Armada is it not	H
A view of Ryde no matter what	H
I pledge my critical renown	K
That this will be the talk of Town	K
Where did you get those daring hues	T
Those blues on reds those reds on blues	T
That pea green face that gamboge sky	S
You've far outcried the latest cry mdash	O
Out Monet ed Monet I have said	H
Our Art was sleeping but not dead	H
Long have we waited for the Star	B
I watched the skies for it afar	B
The hour has come mdash and here you are	B
	-
And that is how our artist friend	H
Found his struggles at an end	H
And from his little Chelsea flat	H
Became the Park Lane plutocrat	H
'Neath his sheltered garden wall	N
When the rain begins to fall	N
And the stormy winds do blow	N
You may see them in a row	N
Red effects and lake and yellow	N
Getting nicely blurred and mellow	N
With the subtle gauzy mist	H
Of the great Impressionist	H
Ask him how he chanced to find	H
How to leave the French behind	H
And he answers quick and smart	H
English climate's best for Art	H

Arthur Conan Doyle

A Post-impressionist Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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