The Tale Of A Pony Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBBBBB CCDDEFFFFGH BBBBBBBBBB FFFFIIJJKK LLMMNNOOBBBBBPPBQQ RRRRNSGGNNNTTTUUVVVV WWWWWWWBBBWW FFUUUUBBBBBBGG FF| Name of my heroine simply Rose | A |
| Surname tolerable only in prose | A |
| Habitat Paris that is where | B |
| She resided for change of air | B |
| Aetat twenty complexion fair | B |
| Rich good looking and debonnaire | B |
| Smarter than Jersey lightning There | B |
| That's her photograph done with care | B |
| - | |
| In Paris whatever they do besides | C |
| EVERY LADY IN FULL DRESS RIDES | C |
| Moire antiques you never meet | D |
| Sweeping the filth of a dirty street | D |
| But every woman's claim to ton | E |
| Depends upon | F |
| The team she drives whether phaeton | F |
| Landau or britzka Hence it's plain | F |
| That Rose who was of her toilet vain | F |
| Should have a team that ought to be | G |
| Equal to any in all Paris | H |
| - | |
| Bring forth the horse The commissaire | B |
| Bowed and brought Miss Rose a pair | B |
| Leading an equipage rich and rare | B |
| Why doth that lovely lady stare | B |
| Why The tail of the off gray mare | B |
| Is bobbed by all that's good and fair | B |
| Like the shaving brushes that soldiers wear | B |
| Scarcely showing as much back hair | B |
| As Tam O'Shanter's Meg and there | B |
| Lord knows she'd little enough to spare | B |
| - | |
| That stare and frown the Frenchman knew | F |
| But did as well bred Frenchmen do | F |
| Raised his shoulders above his crown | F |
| Joined his thumbs with the fingers down | F |
| And said Ah Heaven then Mademoiselle | I |
| Delay one minute and all is well | I |
| He went returned by what good chance | J |
| These things are managed so well in France | J |
| I cannot say but he made the sale | K |
| And the bob tailed mare had a flowing tail | K |
| - | |
| All that is false in this world below | L |
| Betrays itself in a love of show | L |
| Indignant Nature hides her lash | M |
| In the purple black of a dyed mustache | M |
| The shallowest fop will trip in French | N |
| The would be critic will misquote Trench | N |
| In short you're always sure to detect | O |
| A sham in the things folks most affect | O |
| Bean pods are noisiest when dry | B |
| And you always wink with your weakest eye | B |
| And that's the reason the old gray mare | B |
| Forever had her tail in the air | B |
| With flourishes beyond compare | B |
| Though every whisk | P |
| Incurred the risk | P |
| Of leaving that sensitive region bare | B |
| She did some things that you couldn't but feel | Q |
| She wouldn't have done had her tail been real | Q |
| - | |
| Champs Elysees time past five | R |
| There go the carriages look alive | R |
| Everything that man can drive | R |
| Or his inventive skill contrive | R |
| Yankee buggy or English chay | N |
| Dog cart droschky and smart coupe | S |
| A desobligeante quite bulky | G |
| French idea of a Yankee sulky | G |
| Band in the distance playing a march | N |
| Footman standing stiff as starch | N |
| Savans lorettes deputies Arch | N |
| Bishops and there together range | T |
| Sous lieutenants and cent gardes strange | T |
| Way these soldier chaps make change | T |
| Mixed with black eyed Polish dames | U |
| With unpronounceable awful names | U |
| Laces tremble and ribbons flout | V |
| Coachmen wrangle and gendarmes shout | V |
| Bless us what is the row about | V |
| Ah here comes Rosy's new turnout | V |
| Smart You bet your life 'twas that | W |
| Nifty short for magnificat | W |
| Mulberry panels heraldic spread | W |
| Ebony wheels picked out with red | W |
| And two gray mares that were thoroughbred | W |
| No wonder that every dandy's head | W |
| Was turned by the turnout and 'twas said | W |
| That Caskowhisky friend of the Czar | B |
| A very good whip as Russians are | B |
| Was tied to Rosy's triumphal car | B |
| Entranced the reader will understand | W |
| By ribbons that graced her head and hand | W |
| - | |
| Alas the hour you think would crown | F |
| Your highest wishes should let you down | F |
| Or Fate should turn by your own mischance | U |
| Your victor's car to an ambulance | U |
| From cloudless heavens her lightnings glance | U |
| And these things happen even in France | U |
| And so Miss Rose as she trotted by | B |
| The cynosure of every eye | B |
| Saw to her horror the off mare shy | B |
| Flourish her tail so exceedingly high | B |
| That disregarding the closest tie | B |
| And without giving a reason why | B |
| She flung that tail so free and frisky | G |
| Off in the face of Caskowhisky | G |
| - | |
| Excuses blushes smiles in fine | F |
| End of the pony's tail and mine | F |
Bret Harte
(1)
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