Mr. Flood's Party Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDEFG HIJIAKLK MHNHOPQP RSTSUHVH WXYZA2AQA LB2C2B2D2E2F2E2 G2HDHPBH2B

Old Eben Flood climbing alone one nightA
Over the hill between the town belowB
And the forsaken upland hermitageC
That held as much as he should ever knowB
On earth again of home paused warilyD
The road was his with not a native nearE
And Eben having leisure said aloudF
For no man else in Tilbury Town to hearG
-
Well Mr Flood we have the harvest moonH
Again and we may not have many moreI
The bird is on the wing the poet saysJ
And you and I have said it here beforeI
Drink to the bird He raised up to the lightA
The jug that he had gone so far to fillK
And answered huskily Well Mr FloodL
Since you propose it I believe I willK
-
Alone as if enduring to the endM
A valiant armor of scarred hopes outwornH
He stood there in the middle of the roadN
Like Roland's ghost winding a silent hornH
Below him in the town among the treesO
Where friends of other days had honored himP
A phantom salutation of the deadQ
Rang thinly till old Eben's eyes were dimP
-
Then as a mother lays her sleeping childR
Down tenderly fearing it may awakeS
He sat the jug down slowly at his feetT
With trembling care knowing that most things breakS
And only when assured that on firm earthU
It stood as the uncertain lives of menH
Assuredly did not he paced awayV
And with his hand extended paused againH
-
Well Mr Flood we have not met like thisW
In a long time and many a change has comeX
To both of us I fear since last it wasY
We had a drop together Welcome homeZ
Convivially returning with himselfA2
Again he raised the jug up to the lightA
And with an acquiescent quaver saidQ
Well Mr Flood if you insist I mightA
-
Only a very little Mr FloodL
For auld lang syne No more sir that will doB2
So for the time apparently it didC2
And Eben apparently thouht so tooB2
For soon among the silver lonelinessD2
Of night he lifted up his voice and sangE2
Secure with only two moons listeningF2
Until the whole harmonious landscape rangE2
-
For auld lang syne The weary throat gave outG2
The last word wavered and the song was doneH
He raised again the jug regretfullyD
And shook his head and was again aloneH
There was not much that was ahead of himP
And there was nothing in the town belowB
Where strangers would have shut the many doorsH2
That many friends had opened long agoB

Edwin Arlington Robinson



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Anthony Cann : So many years, so many tears... and life goes on and then we die...
 
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