La Bouquetiere Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Buy my roses citizens	A
Here are roses golden white	B
Like the stars that lovers watch	C
On a purple summer night	B
Here are roses ruddy red	D
Here are roses Cupid's pink	E
Here are roses like his cheeks	F
Deeper like his lips I think	E
Vogue la galere what if they die	G
Roses will bloom again so buy	G
	-
Here is one it should be white	B
As tho' in a playful mind	H
Flora stole the winter snow	I
From the sleeping north'rn wind	H
And lest he should wake and rage	J
Breath'd a spell of ardent pow'r	K
On the flake and flung it down	L
To the earth a snow white flow'r	K
Vogue la galere 'tis stain'd with red	D
That only means a woman's dead	D
	-
Buy my flowers citizens	A
Here's a Parma violet	M
Ah why is my white rose red	D
'Tis the blood of a grisette	D
She sold her flowers by the quay	N
Brown her eyes and fair her hair	O
Sixteen summers old I think	E
With a quaint Provincial air	O
Vogue la galere she's gone the way	P
That flesh as well as flow'rs must stray	P
	-
She had a father old and lame	Q
He wove his baskets by her side	D
Well well 'twas fair enough to see	N
Her look of love his glance of pride	D
He wore a beard of shaggy grey	P
And clumsy patches on his blouse	R
She wore about her neck a cross	S
And on her feet great wooden shoes	T
Vogue la galere we have no cross	S
Th' Republic says it's gold is dross	S
	-
They had a dog old lame and lean	U
He once had been a noble hound	D
And day by day he lay and starv'd	D
Or gnaw'd some bone that he had found	D
They shar'd with him the scanty crust	D
That barely foil'd starvation's pain	V
He'd wag his feeble tail and turn	W
To gnaw that polish'd bone again	X
Vogue la galere why don't ye greet	D
My tale with laughter prompt and meet	D
	-
No fear ye'll chorus me with laughs	Y
When draws my long jest to its close	Z
And have for life a merry joke	A2
The spot of blood upon the rose	B2
She sold her flow'rs but what of that	D
The child was either good or dense	C2
She starv'd for one she would not sell	D2
Patriots 'twas her innocence	E2
Vogue la galere poor little clod	D
Like us she could not laugh at God	D
	-
A week ago I saw a crowd	D
Of red caps and a Tricoteuse	E2
Call'd as I hurried swiftly past	D
They've taken little Wooden Shoes	E2
Well so they had Come laugh I say	E2
Your laugh with mine should come in pat	D
For she the little sad fac'd child	D
Was an accurs'd aristocrat	D
Vogue la galere the Republic's said	D
Saints angels nobles all are dead	D
	-
The old man too shriek'd out the crowd	D
She turn'd her small white face about	D
And ye'd have laugh'd to see the air	O
With which she fac'd that rabble rout	D
I laugh'd I know some laughter breeds	E2
A merry moisture in the eye	G
My cheeks were wet to see her hand	D
Try to push those brawny patriots by	G
Vogue la galere we'll laugh nor weep	F2
When Death not God calls us to sleep	F2
	-
Not Jean she said 'tis only I	G
That noble am take only me	N
I only am his foster child	D
He nurs'd me on his knee	N
See he is guiltless of the crime	G2
Of noble birth and lov'd me not	D
Because I claim an old descent	D
But that he nurs'd me in his cot	D
Vogue la galere 'tis well no God	D
Exists to look upon this sod	D
	-
Believe her not he shriek'd O no	I
I am the father of her life	H2
Poor Jean she said believe him not	D
His mind with dreams is rife	H2
Farewell dear Jean she said I laugh'd	D
Her air was so sedately grand	D
Thou'st been a faithful servant so	I
Thou well may'st kiss my hand	D
Vogue la galere the sun is red	D
And will be Patriots when we're dead	D
	-
Child my dear child he shriek'd she turn'd	D
And let the patriots close her round	D
He was so lame he fell behind	D
He and the starving hound	D
Let him go free yell'd out the mob	I2
Accurs'd be these nobles all	J2
The poor old wretch is craz'd it seems	E2
Blood Citizens will pall	K2
Vogue la galere We can't buy wine	L2
So let blood flow be't thine or mine	L2
	-
I ply my trade about the Place	E2
Where proudly reigns La Guillotine	U
I pile my basket up with bloom	M2
With mosses soft and green	U
This morning not an hour ago	I
I stood beside a Tricoteuse	E2
And saw the little fair head fall	J2
Off the little Wooden Shoes	E2
Vogue la galere By Sanson's told	D
Into his basket dross and gold	D
	-
She died alone A woman drew	N2
As close beside her as she might	D
And in that woman's basket lay	E2
A rose all snowy white	D
But sixteen summers old a child	D
As one might say to die alone	O2
Ah well it is the only way	E2
These nobles can atone	O2
Vogue la galere here is my jest	D
My white rose redden'd from her breast	D
	-
Buy my roses Citizens	E2
Here's a vi'let here's a pink	E
Deeper tint than Cupid's cheek	P2
Deeper than his lips I think	E
Flora's nymphs on rosy feet	D
Ne'er o'er brighter blossoms sprang	Q2
Ne'er a songster sweeter blooms	E2
In his sweetest rhyming sang	Q2
Vogue la galere Roses must die	G
Roses will grow again so buy	G

Isabella Valancy Crawford

La Bouquetiere Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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