Dolly Varden Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AAABCCCB DDDEFFFE GGGHEIIH JJJKLLLK MMMBNNNB OOOBPPPB QQQKRRRK| Dear Dolly who does not recall | A |
| The thrilling page that pictured all | A |
| Those charms that held our sense in thrall | A |
| Just as the artist caught her | B |
| As down that English lane she tripped | C |
| In bowered chintz hat sideways tipped | C |
| Trim bodiced bright eyed roguish lipped | C |
| The locksmith's pretty daughter | B |
| - | |
| Sweet fragment of the Master's art | D |
| O simple faith O rustic heart | D |
| O maid that hath no counterpart | D |
| In life's dry dog eared pages | E |
| Where shall we find thy like Ah stay | F |
| Methinks I saw her yesterday | F |
| In chintz that flowered as one might say | F |
| Perennial for ages | E |
| - | |
| Her father's modest cot was stone | G |
| Five stories high in style and tone | G |
| Composite and I frankly own | G |
| Within its walls revealing | H |
| Some certain novel strange ideas | E |
| A Gothic door with Roman piers | I |
| And floors removed some thousand years | I |
| From their Pompeian ceiling | H |
| - | |
| The small salon where she received | J |
| Was Louis Quatorze and relieved | J |
| By Chinese cabinets conceived | J |
| Grotesquely by the heathen | K |
| The sofas were a classic sight | L |
| The Roman bench sedilia hight | L |
| The chairs were French in gold and white | L |
| And one Elizabethan | K |
| - | |
| And she the goddess of that shrine | M |
| Two ringed fingers placed in mine | M |
| The stones were many carats fine | M |
| And of the purest water | B |
| Then dropped a curtsy far enough | N |
| To fairly fill her cretonne puff | N |
| And show the petticoat's rich stuff | N |
| That her fond parent bought her | B |
| - | |
| Her speech was simple as her dress | O |
| Not French the more but English less | O |
| She loved yet sometimes I confess | O |
| I scarce could comprehend her | B |
| Her manners were quite far from shy | P |
| There was a quiet in her eye | P |
| Appalling to the Hugh who'd try | P |
| With rudeness to offend her | B |
| - | |
| But whence I cried this masquerade | Q |
| Some figure for to night's charade | Q |
| A Watteau shepherdess or maid | Q |
| She smiled and begged my pardon | K |
| Why surely you must know the name | R |
| That woman who was Shakespeare's flame | R |
| Or Byron's well it's all the same | R |
| Why Lord I'm Dolly Varden | K |
Bret Harte
(1)
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