The Shepheardes Calender: Januarie Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BABAAA CDCDAA EAEADF AAAAAA AAAAEE AFAFEE FAFAAA AFAFEE FGFHEE EAEAEE DEFECC IAIAJJ DADAKKJanuarie gloga Prime Colin Cloute | A |
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A Shepeheards boye no better doe him call | B |
when Winters wastful spight was almost spent | A |
All in a sunneshine day as did befall | B |
Led forth his flock that had been long ypent | A |
So faynt they woxe and feeble in the folde | A |
That now vnnethes their feete could them vphold | A |
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All as the Sheepe such was the shepeheards looke | C |
For pale and wanne he was alas the while | D |
May seeme he lovd or els some care he tooke | C |
Well couth he tune his pipe and frame his stile | D |
Tho to a hill his faynting flocke he ledde | A |
And thus him playnd the while his shepe there fedde | A |
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Ye gods of loue that pitie louers payne | E |
if any gods the paine of louers pitie | A |
Looke from aboue where you in ioyes remaine | E |
And bowe your eares vnto my doleful dittie | A |
And Pan thou shepheards God that once didst loue | D |
Pitie the paines that thou thy selfe didst proue | F |
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Thou barrein ground whome winters wrath hath wasted | A |
Art made a myrrhour to behold my plight | A |
Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd and after hasted | A |
Thy sommer prowde with Daffadillies dight | A |
And now is come thy wynters stormy state | A |
Thy mantle mard wherein thou mas kedst late | A |
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Such rage as winters reigneth in my heart | A |
My life bloud friesing wtih vnkindly cold | A |
Such stormy stoures do breede my balefull smarte | A |
As if my yeare were wast and woxen old | A |
And yet alas but now my spring begonne | E |
And yet alas yt is already donne | E |
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You naked trees whose shady leaves are lost | A |
Wherein the byrds were wont to build their bowre | F |
And now are clothd with mosse and hoary frost | A |
Instede of bloosmes wherwith your buds did flowre | F |
I see your teares that from your boughes doe raine | E |
Whose drops in drery ysicles remaine | E |
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All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere | F |
My timely buds with wayling all are wasted | A |
The blossome which my braunch of youth did beare | F |
With breathed sighes is blowne away blasted | A |
And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend | A |
As on your boughes the ysicles depend | A |
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Thou feeble flocke whose fleece is rough and rent | A |
Whose knees are weak through fast and evill fare | F |
Mayst witnesse well by thy ill gouernement | A |
Thy maysters mind is ouercome with care | F |
Thou weak I wanne thou leabe I quite forlorne | E |
With mourning pyne I you with pyning mourne | E |
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A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower | F |
Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see | G |
And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure | F |
Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight as shee | H |
Yet all for naught snch such sight hath bred my bane | E |
Ah God that loue should breede both ioy and payne | E |
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It is not Hobbinol wherefore I plaine | E |
Albee my loue he seeke with dayly suit | A |
His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine | E |
His kiddes his cracknelles and his early fruit | A |
Ah foolish Hobbinol thy gyfts bene vayne | E |
Colin them gives to Rosalind againe | E |
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I loue thilke lasse alas why doe I loue | D |
And am forlorne alas why am I lorne | E |
Shee deignes not my good will but doth reproue | F |
And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne | E |
Shepheards deuise she hateth as the snake | C |
And laughes the songes that Colin Clout doth make | C |
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Wherefore my pype albee rude Pan thou please | I |
Yet for thou pleasest not where most I would | A |
And thou vnlucky Muse that wontst to ease | I |
My musing mynd yet canst not when thou should | A |
Both pype and Muse shall sore the while abye | J |
So broke his oaten pype and downe dyd lye | J |
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By that the welked Phoebus gan availe | D |
His weary waine and nowe the frosty Night | A |
Her mantle black through heauen gan overhaile | D |
Which seene the pensife boy halfe in despight | A |
Arose and homeward drove his sonned sheepe | K |
Whose hanging heads did seeme his carefull case to weepe | K |
Edmund Spenser
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