Lines To A Friend Visiting America Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCBC A DEDE A FGFF FDFD FDFD HIHJ D D KDKD LMLM D D DNDN O O DPDP QRQR S S RDRD TDUD D D D D D DVDV WDW DXDX Y Y R R ZQZQ A2 A2 B2 B2 C2DC2D V V D2E2D2E2 DDD U U DQDQ D D B2 DB2DB2 B2 D D B2 F2DF2D| I | A |
| - | |
| Now farewell to you you are | B |
| One of my dearest whom I trust | C |
| Now follow you the Western star | B |
| And cast the old world off as dust | C |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| From many friends adieu adieu | D |
| The quick heart of the word therein | E |
| Much that we hope for hangs with you | D |
| We lose you but we lose to win | E |
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| III | A |
| - | |
| The beggar king November frets | F |
| His tatters rich with Indian dyes | G |
| Goes hugging we our season's debts | F |
| Pay calmly of the Spring forewise | F |
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| IV | - |
| - | |
| We send our worthiest can no less | F |
| If we would now be read aright | D |
| To that great people who may bless | F |
| Or curse mankind they have the might | D |
| - | |
| V | - |
| - | |
| The proudest seasons find their graves | F |
| And we who would not be wooed must court | D |
| We have let the blunderers and the waves | F |
| Divide us and the devil had sport | D |
| - | |
| VI | - |
| - | |
| The blunderers and the waves no more | H |
| Shall sever kindred sending forth | I |
| Their worthiest from shore to shore | H |
| For welcome bent to prove their worth | J |
| - | |
| VII | - |
| - | |
| Go you and such as you afloat | D |
| Our lost kinsfellowship to revive | - |
| The battle of the antidote | D |
| Is tough though silent may you thrive | - |
| - | |
| VIII | - |
| - | |
| I when in this North wind I see | - |
| The straining red woods blown awry | - |
| Feel shuddering like the winter tree | - |
| All vein and artery on cold sky | - |
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| IX | - |
| - | |
| The leaf that clothed me is torn away | K |
| My friend is as a flying seed | D |
| Ay true to bring replenished day | K |
| Light ebbs but I am bare and bleed | D |
| - | |
| X | - |
| - | |
| What husky habitations seem | L |
| These comfortable sayings they fell | M |
| In some rich year become a dream | L |
| So cries my heart the infidel | M |
| - | |
| XI | - |
| - | |
| Oh for the strenuous mind in quest | D |
| Arabian visions could not vie | - |
| With those broad wonders of the West | D |
| And would I bid you stay Not I | - |
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| XII | - |
| - | |
| The strange experimental land | D |
| Where men continually dare take | N |
| Niagara leaps unshattered stand | D |
| 'Twixt fall and fall for conscience' sake | N |
| - | |
| XIII | - |
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| Drive onward like a flood's increase | - |
| Fresh rapids and abysms engage | O |
| We live we die scorn fireside peace | - |
| And as a garment put on rage | O |
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| XIV | - |
| - | |
| Rather than bear God's reprimand | D |
| By rearing on a full fat soil | P |
| Concrete of sin and sloth this land | D |
| You will observe it coil in coil | P |
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| XV | - |
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| The land has been discover'd long | Q |
| The people we have yet to know | R |
| Themselves they know not save that strong | Q |
| For good and evil still they grow | R |
| - | |
| XVI | - |
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| Nor know they us Yea well enough | - |
| In that inveterate machine | S |
| Through which we speak the printed stuff | - |
| Daily with voice most hugeous mien | S |
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| XVII | - |
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| Tremendous as a lion's show | R |
| The grand menagerie paintings hide | D |
| Hear the drum beat the trombones blow | R |
| The poor old Lion lies inside | D |
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| XVIII | - |
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| It is not England that they hear | T |
| But mighty Mammon's pipers trained | D |
| To trumpet out his moods and stir | U |
| His sluggish soul HER voice is chained | D |
| - | |
| XIX | - |
| - | |
| Almost her spirit seems moribund | D |
| O teach them 'tis not she displays | - |
| The panic of a purse rotund | D |
| Eternal dread of evil days | - |
| - | |
| XX | - |
| - | |
| That haunting spectre of success | - |
| Which shows a heart sunk low in the girths | - |
| Not England answers nobleness | - |
| 'Live for thyself thou art not earth's ' | - |
| - | |
| XXI | - |
| - | |
| Not she when struggling manhood tries | - |
| For freedom air a hopefuller fate | D |
| Points out the planet Compromise | - |
| And shakes a mild reproving pate | D |
| - | |
| XXII | - |
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| Says never 'I am well at ease | - |
| My sneers upon the weak I shed | D |
| The strong have my cajoleries | - |
| And those beneath my feet I tread ' | - |
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| XXIII | - |
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| Nay but 'tis said for her great Lord | D |
| The misery's there The shameless one | V |
| Adjures mankind to sheathe the sword | D |
| Herself not yielding what it won | V |
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| XXIV | - |
| - | |
| Her sermon at cock crow doth preach | W |
| On sweet Prosperity or greed | D |
| 'Lo as the beasts feed each for each | W |
| God's blessings let us take and feed ' | - |
| - | |
| XXV | - |
| - | |
| Ungrateful creatures crave a part | D |
| She tells them firmly she is full | X |
| Lost sheared sheep hurt her tender heart | D |
| With bleating stops her ears with wool | X |
| - | |
| XXVI | - |
| - | |
| Seized sometimes by prodigious qualms | - |
| Nightmares of bankruptcy and death | Y |
| Showers down in lumps a load of alms | - |
| Then pants as one who has lost a breath | Y |
| - | |
| XXVII | - |
| - | |
| Believes high heaven whence favours flow | R |
| Too kind to ask a sacrifice | - |
| For what it specially doth bestow | R |
| Gives SHE 'tis generous cheese to mice | - |
| - | |
| XXVIII | - |
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| She saw the young Dominion strip | Z |
| For battle with a grievous wrong | Q |
| And curled a noble Norman lip | Z |
| And looked with half an eye sidelong | Q |
| - | |
| XXIX | - |
| - | |
| And in stout Saxon wrote her sneers | - |
| Denounced the waste of blood and coin | A2 |
| Implored the combatants with tears | - |
| Never to think they could rejoin | A2 |
| - | |
| XXX | - |
| - | |
| Oh was it England that alas | - |
| Turned sharp the victor to cajole | B2 |
| Behold her features in the glass | - |
| A monstrous semblance mocks her soul | B2 |
| - | |
| XXXI | - |
| - | |
| A false majority by stealth | C2 |
| Have got her fast and sway the rod | D |
| A headless tyrant built of wealth | C2 |
| The hypocrite the belly God | D |
| - | |
| XXXII | - |
| - | |
| To him the daily hymns they raise | - |
| His tastes are sought his will is done | V |
| He sniffs the putrid steam of praise | - |
| Place for true England here is none | V |
| - | |
| XXXIII | - |
| - | |
| But can a distant race discern | D2 |
| The difference 'twixt her and him | E2 |
| My friend that will you bid them learn | D2 |
| He shames and binds her head and limb | E2 |
| - | |
| XXXIV | - |
| - | |
| Old wood has blossoms of this sort | D |
| Though sound at core she is old wood | D |
| If freemen hate her one retort | D |
| She has but one 'You are my blood ' | - |
| - | |
| XXXV | - |
| - | |
| A poet half a prophet rose | - |
| In recent days and called for power | U |
| I love him but his mountain prose | - |
| His Alp and valley and wild flower | U |
| - | |
| XXXVI | - |
| - | |
| Proclaimed our weakness not its source | - |
| What medicine for disease had he | - |
| Whom summoned for a show of force | - |
| Our titular aristocracy | - |
| - | |
| XXXVII | - |
| - | |
| Why these are great at City feasts | - |
| From City riches mainly rise | - |
| 'Tis well to hear them when the beasts | - |
| That die for us they eulogize | - |
| - | |
| XXXVIII | - |
| - | |
| But these of all the liveried crew | D |
| Obeisant in Mammon's walk | Q |
| Most deferent ply the facial screw | D |
| The spinal bend submissive talk | Q |
| - | |
| XXXIX | - |
| - | |
| Small fear that they will run to books | - |
| At least the better form of seed | D |
| I too have hoped from their good looks | - |
| And fables of their Northman breed | D |
| - | |
| XL | B2 |
| - | |
| Have hoped that they the land would head | D |
| In acts magnanimous but lo | B2 |
| When fainting heroes beg for bread | D |
| They frown where they are driven they go | B2 |
| - | |
| XLI | B2 |
| - | |
| Good health my friend and may your lot | D |
| Be cheerful o'er the Western rounds | - |
| This butter woman's market trot | D |
| Of verse is passing market bounds | - |
| - | |
| XLII | B2 |
| - | |
| Adieu the sun sets he is gone | F2 |
| On banks of fog faint lines extend | D |
| Adieu bring back a braver dawn | F2 |
| To England and to me my friend | D |
George Meredith
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