On A Country Life Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDEEFFGGHHIIIIJG IIBBKKLLIIMMIINNOOII PPQQIIRRIIIISSTTUUVV WWXYZZIIA2A2IIQQB2B2 C2C2C2D2E2F2F2G2G2H2 H2I2I2IIIJ2K2IIIIIIL 2L2TTPPM2N2

I hate the clamours of the smoky townsA
But much admire the bliss of rural clownsA
Where some remains of innocence appearB
Where no rude noise insults the listening earC
Nought but soft zephyrs whispering through the treesD
Or the still humming of the painful beesD
The gentle murmurs of a purling rillE
Or the unwearied chirping of the drillE
The charming harmony of warbling birdsF
Or hollow lowings of the grazing herdsF
The murmuring stockdoves melancholy cooG
When they their loved mates lament or wooG
The pleasing bleatings of the tender lambsH
Or the indistinct mum'ling of their damsH
The musical discord of chiding houndsI
Whereto the echoing hill or rock resoundsI
The rural mournful songs of lovesick swainsI
Whereby they soothe their raging amorous painsI
The whistling music of the lagging ploughJ
Which does the strength of drooping beasts renewG
And as the country rings with pleasant soundsI
So with delightful prospects it aboundsI
Through every season of the sliding yearB
Unto the ravish'd sight new scenes appearB
In the sweet spring the sun's prolific rayK
Does painted flowers to the mild air displayK
Then opening buds then tender herbs are seenL
And the bare fields are all array'd in greenL
In ripening summer the full laden valesI
Gives prospect of employment for the flailsI
Each breath of wind the bearded groves makes bendM
Which seems the fatal sickle to portendM
In Autumn that repays the labourer's painsI
Reapers sweep down the honours of the plainsI
Anon black Winter from the frozen northN
Its treasuries of snow and hail pours forthN
Then stormy winds blow through the hazy skyO
In desolation nature seems to lieO
The unstain'd snow from the full clouds descendsI
Whose sparkling lustre open eyes offendsI
In maiden white the glittering fields do shineP
Then bleating flocks for want of food repineP
With wither'd eyes they see all snow aroundQ
And with their fore feet paw and scrape the groundQ
They cheerfully do crop the insipid grassI
The shepherds sighing cry Alas alasI
Then pinching want the wildest beast does tameR
Then huntsmen on the snow do trace their gameR
Keen frost then turns the liquid lakes to glassI
Arrests the dancing rivulets as they passI
How sweet and innocent are country sportsI
And as men's tempers various are their sortsI
You on the banks of soft meandering TweedS
May in your toils ensnare the watery breedS
And nicely lead the artificial fleeT
Which when the nimble watchful trout does seeT
He at the bearded hook will briskly springU
Then in that instant twieth your hairy stringU
And when he's hook'd you with a constant handV
May draw him struggling to the fatal landV
Then at fit seasons you may clothe your hookW
With a sweet bait dress'd by a faithless cookW
The greedy pike darts to't with eager hasteX
And being struck in vain he flies at lastY
He rages storms and flounces through the streamZ
But all alas his life cannot redeemZ
At other times you may pursue the chaseI
And hunt the nimble hare from place to placeI
See when the dog is just upon the gripA2
Out at a side she'll make a handsome skipA2
And ere he can divert his furious courseI
She far before him scours with all her forceI
She'll shift and many times run the same groundQ
At last outwearied by the stronger houndQ
She falls a sacrifice unto his hateB2
And with sad piteous screams laments her fateB2
See how the hawk doth take his towering flightC2
And in his course outflies our very sightC2
Bears down the fluttering fowl with all his mightC2
See how the wary gunner casts aboutD2
Watching the fittest posture when to shootE2
Quick as the fatal lightning blasts the oakF2
He gives the springing fowl a sudden strokeF2
He pours upon't a shower of mortal leadG2
And ere the noise is heard the fowl is deadG2
Sometimes he spreads his hidden subtile snareH2
Of which the entangled fowl was not awareH2
Through pathless wastes he doth pursue his sportI2
Where nought but moor fowl and wild beasts resortI2
When the noon sun directly darts his beamsI
Upon your giddy heads with fiery gleamsI
Then you may bathe yourself in cooling streamsI
Or to the sweet adjoining grove retireJ2
Where trees with interwoven boughs conspireK2
To form a grateful shade there rural swainsI
Do tune their oaten reeds to rural strainsI
The silent birds sit listening on the spraysI
And in soft charming notes do imitate their laysI
There you may stretch yourself upon the grassI
And lull'd with music to kind slumbers passI
No meagre cares your fancy will distractL2
And on that scene no tragic fears will actL2
Save the dear image of a charming sheT
Nought will the object of your vision beT
Away the vicious pleasures of the townP
Let empty partial fortune on me frownP
But grant ye powers that it may be my lotM2
To live in peace from noisy towns remoteN2

James Thomson



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