The Beggar's Soliloquy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCBCDEFE A GHGHIJIJ A KLKLMNMN N OPOPQRQR N STSTUVUV N WXWXYKYK N ZA2ZB2C2D2C2D2 N E2F2E2F2G2NG2N F2 NH2NH2I2DI2D F2 J2NJ2NK2F2K2F2 N L2M2L2M2NN2NN2 N N2NN2NN2BN2B N O2P2O2P2Q2N2Q2N2 N R2S2T2S2N2GN2N| I | A |
| - | |
| Now this to my notion is pleasant cheer | B |
| To lie all alone on a ragged heath | C |
| Where your nose isn't sniffing for bones or beer | B |
| But a peat fire smells like a garden beneath | C |
| The cottagers bustle about the door | D |
| And the girl at the window ties her strings | E |
| She's a dish for a man who's a mind to be poor | F |
| Lord women are such expensive things | E |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| We don't marry beggars says she why no | G |
| It seems that to make 'em is what you do | H |
| And as I can cook and scour and sew | G |
| I needn't pay half my victuals for you | H |
| A man for himself should be able to scratch | I |
| But tickling's a luxury love indeed | J |
| Love burns as long as the lucifer match | I |
| Wedlock's the candle Now that's my creed | J |
| - | |
| III | A |
| - | |
| The church bells sound water like over the wheat | K |
| And up the long path troop pair after pair | L |
| The man's well brushed and the woman looks neat | K |
| It's man and woman everywhere | L |
| Unless like me you lie here flat | M |
| With a donkey for friend you must have a wife | N |
| She pulls out your hair but she brushes your hat | M |
| Appearances make the best half of life | N |
| - | |
| IV | N |
| - | |
| You nice little madam you know you're nice | O |
| I remember hearing a parson say | P |
| You're a plateful of vanity pepper'd with vice | O |
| You chap at the gate thinks t' other way | P |
| On his waistcoat you read both his head and his heart | Q |
| There's a whole week's wages there figured in gold | R |
| Yes when you turn round you may well give a start | Q |
| It's fun to a fellow who's getting old | R |
| - | |
| V | N |
| - | |
| Now that's a good craft weaving waistcoats and flowers | S |
| And selling of ribbons and scenting of lard | T |
| It gives you a house to get in from the showers | S |
| And food when your appetite jockeys you hard | T |
| You live a respectable man but I ask | U |
| If it's worth the trouble You use your tools | V |
| And spend your time and what's your task | U |
| Why to make a slide for a couple of fools | V |
| - | |
| VI | N |
| - | |
| You can't match the colour o' these heath mounds | W |
| Nor better that peat fire's agreeable smell | X |
| I'm clothed like with natural sights and sounds | W |
| To myself I'm in tune I hope you're as well | X |
| You jolly old cot though you don't own coal | Y |
| It's a generous pot that's boiled with peat | K |
| Let the Lord Mayor o' London roast oxen whole | Y |
| His smoke at least don't smell so sweet | K |
| - | |
| VII | N |
| - | |
| I'm not a low Radical hating the laws | Z |
| Who'd the aristocracy rebuke | A2 |
| I talk o' the Lord Mayor o' London because | Z |
| I once was on intimate terms with his cook | B2 |
| I served him a turn and got pensioned on scraps | C2 |
| And Lord Sir didn't I envy his place | D2 |
| Till Death knock'd him down with the softest of taps | C2 |
| And I knew what was meant by a tallowy face | D2 |
| - | |
| VIII | N |
| - | |
| On the contrary I'm Conservative quite | E2 |
| There's beggars in Scripture 'mongst Gentiles and Jews | F2 |
| It's nonsense trying to set things right | E2 |
| For if people will give why who'll refuse | F2 |
| That stopping old custom wakes my spleen | G2 |
| The poor and the rich both in giving agree | N |
| Your tight fisted shopman's the Radical mean | G2 |
| There's nothing in common 'twixt him and me | N |
| - | |
| IX | F2 |
| - | |
| He says I'm no use but I won't reply | N |
| You're lucky not being of use to him | H2 |
| On week days he's playing at Spider and Fly | N |
| And on Sundays he sings about Cherubim | H2 |
| Nailing shillings to counters is his chief work | I2 |
| He nods now and then at the name on his door | D |
| But judge of us two at a bow and a smirk | I2 |
| I think I'm his match and I'm honest that's more | D |
| - | |
| X | F2 |
| - | |
| No use well I mayn't be You ring a pig's snout | J2 |
| And then call the animal glutton Now he | N |
| Mr Shopman he's nought but a pipe and a spout | J2 |
| Who won't let the goods o' this world pass free | N |
| This blazing blue weather all round the brown crop | K2 |
| He can't enjoy all but cash he hates | F2 |
| He's only a snail that crawls under his shop | K2 |
| Though he has got the ear o' the magistrates | F2 |
| - | |
| XI | N |
| - | |
| Now giving and taking's a proper exchange | L2 |
| Like question and answer you're both content | M2 |
| But buying and selling seems always strange | L2 |
| You're hostile and that's the thing that's meant | M2 |
| It's man against man you're almost brutes | N |
| There's here no thanks and there's there no pride | N2 |
| If Charity's Christian don't blame my pursuits | N |
| I carry a touchstone by which you're tried | N2 |
| - | |
| XII | N |
| - | |
| 'Take it ' says she 'it's all I've got' | N2 |
| I remember a girl in London streets | N |
| She stood by a coffee stall nice and hot | N2 |
| My belly was like a lamb that bleats | N |
| Says I to myself as her shilling I seized | N2 |
| You haven't a character here my dear | B |
| But for making a rascal like me so pleased | N2 |
| I'll give you one in a better sphere | B |
| - | |
| XIII | N |
| - | |
| And that's where it is she made me feel | O2 |
| I was a rascal but people who scorn | P2 |
| And tell a poor patch breech he isn't genteel | O2 |
| Why they make him kick up and he treads on a corn | P2 |
| It isn't liking it's curst ill luck | Q2 |
| Drives half of us into the begging trade | N2 |
| If for taking to water you praise a duck | Q2 |
| For taking to beer why a man upbraid | N2 |
| - | |
| XIV | N |
| - | |
| The sermon's over they're out of the porch | R2 |
| And it's time for me to move a leg | S2 |
| But in general people who come from church | T2 |
| And have called themselves sinners hate chaps to beg | S2 |
| I'll wager they'll all of 'em dine to day | N2 |
| I was easy half a minute ago | G |
| If that isn't pig that's baking away | N2 |
| May I perish we're never contented heigho | N |
George Meredith
(1)
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About The Beggar's Soliloquy
The Beggar's Soliloquy is a poem by George Meredith. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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