Martin-s Puzzle Poem Rhyme Scheme

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I	A
	-
There she goes up the street with her book in her hand	B
And her Good morning Martin Ay lass how d'ye do	C
Very well thank you Martin I can't understand	B
I might just as well never have cobbled a shoe	C
I can't understand it She talks like a song	D
Her voice takes your ear like the ring of a glass	E
She seems to give gladness while limping along	D
Yet sinner ne'er suffer'd like that little lass	E
	-
II	A
	-
First a fool of a boy ran her down with a cart	F
Then her fool of a father a blacksmith by trade	G
Why the deuce does he tell us it half broke his heart	F
His heart where's the leg of the poor little maid	G
Well that's not enough they must push her downstairs	H
To make her go crooked but why count the list	I
If it's right to suppose that our human affairs	H
Are all order'd by heaven there bang goes my fist	I
	-
III	A
	-
For if angels can look on such sights never mind	J
When you're next to blaspheming it's best to be mum	K
The parson declares that her woes weren't designed	J
But then with the parson it's all kingdom come	K
Lose a leg save a soul a convenient text	L
I call it Tea doctrine not savouring of God	M
When poor little Molly wants 'chastening ' why next	L
The Archangel Michael might taste of the rod	M
	-
IV	-
	-
But to see the poor darling go limping for miles	N
To read books to sick people and just of an age	O
When girls learn the meaning of ribands and smiles	N
Makes me feel like a squirrel that turns in a cage	O
The more I push thinking the more I revolve	-
I never get farther and as to her face	P
It starts up when near on my puzzle I solve	-
And says 'This crush'd body seems such a sad case '	-
	-
V	-
	-
Not that she's for complaining she reads to earn pence	Q
And from those who can't pay simple thanks are enough	-
Does she leave lamentation for chaps without sense	Q
Howsoever she's made up of wonderful stuff	-
Ay the soul in her body must be a stout cord	R
She sings little hymns at the close of the day	S
Though she has but three fingers to lift to the Lord	R
And only one leg to kneel down with to pray	S
	-
VI	-
	-
What I ask is Why persecute such a poor dear	T
If there's Law above all Answer that if you can	U
Irreligious I'm not but I look on this sphere	T
As a place where a man should just think like a man	U
It isn't fair dealing But contrariwise	Q
Do bullets in battle the wicked select	V
Why then it's all chance work And yet in her eyes	Q
She holds a fixed something by which I am checked	V
	-
VII	-
	-
Yonder riband of sunshine aslope on the wall	W
If you eye it a minute 'll have the same look	X
So kind and so merciful God of us all	W
It's the very same lesson we get from the Book	X
Then is Life but a trial Is that what is meant	Y
Some must toil and some perish for others below	Z
The injustice to each spreads a common content	Y
Ay I've lost it again for it can't be quite so	Z
	-
VIII	-
	-
She's the victim of fools that seems nearer the mark	A2
On earth there are engines and numerous fools	Q
Why the Lord can permit them we're still in the dark	A2
He does and in some sort of way they're His tools	Q
It's a roundabout way with respect let me add	B2
If Molly goes crippled that we may be taught	C2
But perhaps it's the only way though it's so bad	B2
In that case we'll bow down our heads as we ought	C2
	-
IX	Q
	-
But the worst of ME is that when I bow my head	D2
I perceive a thought wriggling away in the dust	E2
And I follow its tracks quite forgetful instead	D2
Of humble acceptance for question I must	E2
Here's a creature made carefully carefully made	G
Put together with craft and then stamped on and why	-
The answer seems nowhere it's discord that's played	G
The sky's a blue dish an implacable sky	-
	-
X	Q
	-
Stop a moment I seize an idea from the pit	F2
They tell us that discord though discord alone	G2
Can be harmony when the notes properly fit	F2
Am I judging all things from a single false tone	G2
Is the Universe one immense Organ that rolls	Q
From devils to angels I'm blind with the sight	H2
It pours such a splendour on heaps of poor souls	Q
I might try at kneeling with Molly to night	H2

George Meredith

Martin-s Puzzle Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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