The Borough. Letter Xviii: The Poor And Their Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Dwellings	A
YES we've our Borough vices and I know	B
How far they spread how rapidly they grow	B
Yet think not virtue quits the busy place	C
Nor charity the virtues crown and grace	C
'Our Poor how feed we ' To the most we give	D
A weekly dole and at their homes they live	E
Others together dwell but when they come	F
To the low roof they see a kind of home	G
A social people whom they've ever known	H
With their own thoughts and manners like their	I
	-
own	H
At her old house her dress her air the same	J
I see mine ancient Letter loving dame	J
'Learning my child ' said she 'shall fame command	K
Learning is better worth than house or land	K
For houses perish lands are gone and spent	L
In learning then excel for that's most excellent '	-
'And what her learning ' 'Tis with awe to look	M
In every verse throughout one sacred book	M
From this her joy her hope her peace is sought	N
This she has learned and she is nobly taught	N
If aught of mine have gain'd the public ear	O
If RUTLAND deigns these humble Tales to hear	O
If critics pardon what my friends approved	P
Can I mine ancient Widow pass unmoved	P
Shall I not think what pains the matron took	M
When first I trembled o'er the gilded book	M
How she all patient both at eve and morn	Q
Her needle pointed at the guarding horn	Q
And how she soothed me when with study sad	R
I labour'd on to reach the final zad	R
Shall I not grateful still the dame survey	S
And ask the Muse the poet's debt to pay	S
Nor I alone who hold a trifler's pen	T
But half our bench of wealthy weighty men	T
Who rule our Borough who enforce our laws	U
They own the matron as the leading cause	V
And feel the pleasing debt and pay the just	R
	-
applause	U
To her own house is borne the week's supply	W
There she in credit lives there hopes in peace to	R
	-
die	W
With her a harmless Idiot we behold	R
Who hoards up silver shells for shining gold	R
These he preserves with unremitted care	I
To buy a seat and reign the Borough's mayor	X
Alas who could th' ambitious changeling tell	Y
That what he sought our rulers dared to sell	Y
Near these a Sailor in that hut of thatch	Z
A fish boat's cabin is its nearest match	Z
Dwells and the dungeon is to him a seat	R
Large as he wishes in his view complete	R
A lockless coffer and a lidless hutch	A2
That hold his stores have room for twice as much	A2
His one spare shirt long glass and iron box	B2
Lie all in view no need has he for locks	B2
Here he abides and as our strangers pass	C2
He shows the shipping he presents the glass	C2
He makes unask'd their ports and business known	H
And kindly heard turns quickly to his own	H
Of noble captains heroes every one	D2
You might as soon have made the steeple run	D2
And then his messmates if you're pleased to stay	S
He'll one by one the gallant souls display	S
And as the story verges to an end	R
He'll wind from deed to deed from friend to	R
	-
friend	R
He'll speak of those long lost the brave of old	R
As princes gen'rous and as heroes bold	R
Then will his feelings rise till you may trace	C
Gloom like a cloud frown o'er his manly face	C
And then a tear or two which sting his pride	R
These he will dash indignantly aside	R
And splice his tale now take him from his cot	R
And for some cleaner berth exchange his lot	R
How will he all that cruel aid deplore	E2
His heart will break and he will fight no more	E2
Here is the poor old Merchant he declined	R
And as they say is not in perfect mind	R
In his poor house with one poor maiden friend	R
Quiet he paces to his journey's end	R
Rich in his youth he traded and he fail'd	R
Again he tried again his fate prevail'd	R
His spirits low and his exertions small	F2
He fell perforce he seem'd decreed to fall	F2
Like the gay knight unapt to rise was he	G2
But downward sank with sad alacrity	G2
A borough place we gain'd him in disgrace	C
For gross neglect he quickly lost the place	C
But still he kept a kind of sullen pride	R
Striving his wants to hinder or to hide	R
At length compell'd by very need in grief	H2
He wrote a proud petition for relief	H2
'He did suppose a fall like his would prove	I2
Of force to wake their sympathy and love	J2
Would make them feel the changes all may know	B
And stir them up a due regard to show '	-
His suit was granted to an ancient maid	R
Relieved herself relief for him was paid	R
Here they together meet companions dwell	Y
And dismal tales of man's misfortunes tell	Y
''Twas not a world for them God help them they	S
Could not deceive nor flatter nor betray	S
But there's a happy change a scene to come	F
And they God help them shall be soon at home '	-
If these no pleasures nor enjoyments gain	K2
Still none their spirits nor their speech restrain	K2
They sigh at ease 'mid comforts they complain	K2
The poor will grieve the poor will weep and sigh	W
Both when they know and when they know not why	W
But we our bounty with such care bestow	B
That cause for grieving they shall seldom know	B
Your Plan I love not with a number you	R
Have placed your poor your pitiable few	R
There in one house throughout their lives to be	G2
The pauper palace which they hate to see	G2
That giant building that high bounding wall	F2
Those bare worn walks that lofty thund'ring hall	F2
That large loud clock which tolls each dreaded	R
	-
hour	X
Those gates and locks and all those signs of	J2
	-
power	X
It is a prison with a milder name	J
Which few inhabit without dread or shame	J
Be it agreed the Poor who hither come	F
Partake of plenty seldom found at home	G
That airy rooms and decent beds are meant	R
To give the poor by day by night content	R
That none are frighten'd once admitted here	O
By the stern looks of lordly Overseer	X
Grant that the Guardians of the place attend	R
And ready ear to each petition lend	R
That they desire the grieving poor to show	B
What ills they feel what partial acts they know	B
Not without promise nay desire to heal	L2
Each wrong they suffer and each woe they feel	L2
Alas their sorrows in their bosoms dwell	Y
They've much to suffer but have nought to tell	Y
They have no evil in the place to state	R
And dare not say it is the house they hate	R
They own there's granted all such place can give	D
But live repining for 'tis there they live	E
Grandsires are there who now no more must see	G2
No more must nurse upon the trembling knee	G2
The lost loved daughter's infant progeny	G2
Like death's dread mansion this allows not place	C
For joyful meetings of a kindred race	C
Is not the matron there to whom the son	D2
Was wont at each declining day to run	D2
He when his toil was over gave delight	R
By lifting up the latch and one 'Good night '	-
Yes she is here but nightly to her door	E2
The son still lab'ring can return no more	E2
Widows are here who in their huts were left	R
Of husbands children plenty ease bereft	R
Yet all that grief within the humble shed	R
Was soften'd softened in the humble bed	R
But here in all its force remains the grief	H2
And not one softening object for relief	H2
Who can when here the social neighbour meet	R
Who learn the story current in the street	R
Who to the long known intimate impart	R
Facts they have learn'd or feelings of the heart	R
They talk indeed but who can choose a friend	R
Or seek companions at their journey's end	R
Here are not those whom they when infants knew	R
Who with like fortune up to manhood grew	R
Who with like troubles at old age arrived	R
Who like themselves the joy of life survived	R
Whom time and custom so familiar made	R
That looks the meaning in the mind convey'd	R
But here to strangers words nor looks impart	R
The various movements of the suffering heart	R
Nor will that heart with those alliance own	H
To whom its views and hopes are all unknown	H
What if no grievous fears their lives annoy	M2
Is it not worse no prospects to enjoy	M2
'Tis cheerless living in such bounded view	R
With nothing dreadful but with nothing new	R
Nothing to bring them joy to make them weep	N2
The day itself is like the night asleep	N2
Or on the sameness if a break be made	R
'Tis by some pauper to his grave convey'd	R
By smuggled news from neighb'ring village told	R
News never true or truth a twelvemonth old	R
By some new	R

George Crabbe

The Borough. Letter Xviii: The Poor And Their Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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