Ode - 'on A Distant Prospect' Of Making A Fortune Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABACAC DEDEFGHG IJIJIKIK ILILMNMN IDIDIIII AOAOIMIM IPIPQQQQ RIRISISI

Now the rosy morn appearingA
Floods with light the dazzled heavenB
And the schoolboy groans on hearingA
That eternal clock strike sevenB
Now the waggoner is drivingA
Towards the fields his clattering wainC
Now the bluebottle revivingA
Buzzes down his native paneC
-
But to me the morn is hatefulD
Wearily I stretch my legsE
Dress and settle to my platefulD
Of perhaps inferior eggsE
Yesterday Miss Crump by messageF
Mentioned rent which p'raps I'd payG
And I have a dismal presageH
That she'll call herself to dayG
-
Once I breakfasted off rosewoodI
Smoked through silver mounted pipesJ
Then how my patrician nose wouldI
Turn up at the thought of swipesJ
Ale occasionally claretI
Graced my luncheon then and nowK
I drink porter in a garretI
To be paid for heaven knows howK
-
When the evening shades are deepenedI
And I doff my hat and glovesL
No sweet bird is there to cheep andI
Twitter twenty million lovesL
No dark ringleted canariesM
Sing to me of hungry foamN
No imaginary MarysM
Call fictitious cattle homeN
-
Araminta sweetest fairestI
Solace once of every illD
How I wonder if thou bearestI
Mivins in remembrance stillD
If that Friday night is banishedI
Yet from that retentive mindI
When the others somehow vanishedI
And we two were left behindI
-
When in accents low yet thrillingA
I did all my love declareO
Mentioned that I'd not a shillingA
Hinted that we need not careO
And complacently you listenedI
To my somewhat long addressM
Listening at the same time isn'tI
Quite the same as saying YesM
-
Once a happy child I carolledI
O'er green lawns the whole day throughP
Not unpleasingly apparelledI
In a tightish suit of blueP
What a change has now passed o'er meQ
Now with what dismay I seeQ
Every rising morn before meQ
Goodness gracious patience meQ
-
And I'll prowl a moodier LaraR
Through the world as prowls the batI
And habitually wear aR
Cypress wreath around my hatI
And when Death snuffs out the taperS
Of my Life as soon he mustI
I'll send up to every paperS
Died T Mivins of disgustI

Charles Stuart Calverley



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