A Thought Or Two On Reading Pomfret's “choice” Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCDEFFGHHIIJJKL MMNNOOPQRRBBPPSTUUVV RRWWRRXX YZA2A2B2B2C2D2E2E2F2 F2G2G2RRH2H2RRI2I2RR RRAAJ2J2K2K2L2L2H2M2 N2N2J2J2O2O2P2P2RRA2 A2RRQ2Q2Q2NNVVA2RRR2 R2S2S2T2T2RRRRRRI have been reading Pomfret's Choice this spring | A |
A pretty kind of sort of kind of thing | A |
Not much a verse and poem none at all | B |
Yet as they say extremely natural | C |
And yet I know not There's an art in pies | D |
In raising crusts as well as galleries | E |
And he's the poet more or less who knows | F |
The charm that hallows the least truth from prose | F |
And dresses it in its mild singing clothes | G |
Not oaks alone are trees nor roses flowers | H |
Much humble wealth makes rich this world of ours | H |
Nature from some sweet energy throws up | I |
Alike the pine mount and the buttercup | I |
And truth she makes so precious that to paint | J |
Either shall shrine an artist like a saint | J |
And bring him in his turn the crowds that press | K |
Round Guido's saints or Titian's goddesses | L |
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Our trivial poet hit upon a theme | M |
Which all men love an old sweet household dream | M |
Pray reader what is yours I know full well | N |
What sort of home should grace my garden bell | N |
No tall half furnish'd gloomy shivering house | O |
That worst of mountains labouring with a mouse | O |
Nor should I choose to fill a tawdry niche in | P |
A Grecian temple opening to a kitchen | Q |
The frogs in Homer should have had such boxes | R |
Or Aesop's frog whose heart was like the ox's | R |
Such puff about high roads so grand so small | B |
With wings and what not portico and all | B |
And poor drench'd pillars which it seems a sin | P |
Not to mat up at night time or take in | P |
I'd live in none of those Nor would I have | S |
Veranda'd windows to forestall my grave | T |
Veranda'd truly from the northern heat | U |
And cut down to the floor to comfort one's cold feet | U |
My house should be of brick more wide than high | V |
With sward up to the path and elm trees nigh | V |
A good old country lodge half hid with blooms | R |
Of honied green and quaint with straggling rooms | R |
A few of which white bedded and well swept | W |
For friends whose name endear'd them should be kept | W |
The tip toe traveller peeping through the boughs | R |
O'er my low wall should bless the pleasant house | R |
And that my luck might not seem ill bestow'd | X |
A bench and spring should greet him on the road | X |
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My grounds should not be large I like to go | Y |
To Nature for a range and prospect too | Z |
And cannot fancy she'd comprise for me | A2 |
Even in a park her all sufficiency | A2 |
Besides my thoughts fly far and when at rest | B2 |
Love not a watch tow'r but a lulling nest | B2 |
A Chiswick or a Chatsworth might I grant | C2 |
Visit my dreams with an ambitious want | D2 |
But then I should be forc'd to know the weight | E2 |
Of splendid cares new to my former state | E2 |
And these 'twould far more fit me to admire | F2 |
Borne by the graceful ease of noblest Devonshire | F2 |
Such grounds however as I had should look | G2 |
Like something still have seats and walks and brook | G2 |
One spot for flowers the rest all turf and trees | R |
For I'd not grow my own bad lettuces | R |
I'd build a cover'd path too against rain | H2 |
Long peradventure as my whole domain | H2 |
And so be sure of generous exercise | R |
The youth of age and med'cine of the wise | R |
And this reminds me that behind some screen | I2 |
About my grounds I'd have a bowling green | I2 |
Such as in wits' and merry women's days | R |
Suckling preferr'd before his walk of bays | R |
You may still see them dead as haunts of fairies | R |
By the old seats of Killigrews and Careys | R |
Where all alas is vanish'd from the ring | A |
Wits and black eyes the skittles and the king | A |
Fishing I hate because I think about it | J2 |
Which makes it right that I should do without it | J2 |
A dinner or a death might not be much | K2 |
But cruelty's a rod I dare not touch | K2 |
I own I cannot see my right to feel | L2 |
For my own jaws and tear a trout's with steel | L2 |
To troll him here and there and spike and strain | H2 |
And let him loose to jerk him back again | M2 |
Fancy a preacher at this sort of work | N2 |
Not with his trout or gudgeon but his clerk | N2 |
The clerk leaps gaping at a tempting bit | J2 |
And hah an ear ache with a knife in it | J2 |
That there is pain and evil is no rule | O2 |
That I should make it greater like a fool | O2 |
Or rid me of my rust so vile a way | P2 |
As long as there's a single manly play | P2 |
Nay fool 's a word my pen unjustly writes | R |
Knowing what hearts and brains have dozed o'er bites | R |
But the next inference to be drawn might be | A2 |
That higher beings made a trout of me | A2 |
Which I would rather should not be the case | R |
Though Isaak were the saint to tear my face | R |
And stooping from his heaven with rod and line | Q2 |
Made the fell sport with his old dreams divine | Q2 |
As pleasant to his taste as rough to mine | Q2 |
Such sophistry no doubt saves half the hell | N |
But fish would have preferr'd his reasoning well | N |
And if my gills concern'd him so should I | V |
The dog I grant is in that equal sky | V |
But heaven be prais'd he's not my deity | A2 |
All manly games I'd play at golf and quoits | R |
And cricket to set lungs and limbs to rights | R |
And make me conscious with a due respect | R2 |
Of muscles one forgets by long neglect | R2 |
With these or bowls aforesaid and a ride | S2 |
Books music friends the day I would divide | S2 |
Most with my family but when alone | T2 |
Absorb'd in some new poem of my own | T2 |
A task which makes my time so richly pass | R |
So like a sunshine cast through painted glass | R |
Save where poor Captain Sword crashes the panes | R |
That cold my friends live too and were the gains | R |
Of toiling men but freed from sordid fears | R |
Well could I walk this earth a thousand years | R |
James Henry Leigh Hunt
(1)
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