Lydia Dick Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDDE FFGHHG DDIJJJ FFKLLK MMNOON PPJQRJ DDSTUS NNMDDM UUJNNJ JJDDDD| When I was a boy at college | A |
| Filling up with classic knowledge | B |
| Frequently I wondered why | C |
| Old Professor Demas Bently | D |
| Used to praise so eloquently | D |
| 'Opera Horatii ' | E |
| - | |
| Toiling on a season longer | F |
| Till my reasoning power got stronger | F |
| As my observation grew | G |
| I became convinced that mellow | H |
| Massic loving poet fellow | H |
| Horace knew a thing or two | G |
| - | |
| Yes we sophomores figured duly | D |
| That if we appraised him truly | D |
| Horace must have been a brick | I |
| And no wonder that with ranting | J |
| Rhymes he went a gallivanting | J |
| Round with sprightly Lydia Dick | J |
| - | |
| For that pink of female gender | F |
| Tall and shapely was and slender | F |
| Plump of neck and bust and arms | K |
| While the raiment that invested | L |
| Her so jealously suggested | L |
| Certain more potential charms | K |
| - | |
| Those dark eyes of her that fired him | M |
| Those sweet accents that inspired him | M |
| And her crown of glorious hair | N |
| These things baffle my description | O |
| I should have a fit conniption | O |
| If I tried so I forbear | N |
| - | |
| May be Lydia had her betters | P |
| Anyway this man of letters | P |
| Took that charmer as his pick | J |
| Glad yes glad I am to know it | Q |
| I a fin de siecle poet | R |
| Sympathize with Lydia Dick | J |
| - | |
| Often in my arbor shady | D |
| I fall thinking of that lady | D |
| And the pranks she used to play | S |
| And I'm cheered for all we sages | T |
| Joy when from those distant ages | U |
| Lydia dances down our way | S |
| - | |
| Otherwise some folks might wonder | N |
| With good reason why in thunder | N |
| Learned professors dry and prim | M |
| Find such solace in the giddy | D |
| Pranks that Horace played with Liddy | D |
| Or that Liddy played on him | M |
| - | |
| Still this world of ours rejoices | U |
| In those ancient singing voices | U |
| And our hearts beat high and quick | J |
| To the cadence of old Tiber | N |
| Murmuring praise of roistering Liber | N |
| And of charming Lydia Dick | J |
| - | |
| Still Digentia downward flowing | J |
| Prattleth to the roses blowing | J |
| By the dark deserted grot | D |
| Still Soracte looming lonely | D |
| Watcheth for the coming only | D |
| Of a ghost that cometh not | D |
Eugene Field
(1)
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