Sunday At Hampstead Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A B CDEF GHIH JKLK MNON NPQP NARA NNSN NTUT NJVJ JNWN NCNC JHXH A YZYZ A2B2A2B2 C2NC2N ND2ND2 A E2KE2KNNNN E2F2E2F2JG2JG2 E2KE2KNH2NH2 E2 NE2I2E2 JJ2UJ2 K2L2M2L2 NN2M2N2 O2NNN INP2N XQ2J IR2IR2 S2 JT2S KU2KU2 V2GN IDM2 KNW2N IX2I E2 NNN JY2Y2 Y2Z2Y2Z2 NY2A3Y2 NB3N N C3D3D3NND2D2NN V YYE3E3VVE3E3Y2Y2Y2 E2 E3 E3E3NNE3E3E3E3NNE3E3| I | A |
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| AN VERY IDLE IDYLL BY A VERY HUMBLE MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND NOBLE LONDON MOB | B |
| - | |
| This is the Heath of Hampstead | C |
| This is the Dome of Saint Paul s | D |
| Beneath on the serried house tops | E |
| A chequered luster falls | F |
| - | |
| And the might city of London | G |
| Under the clouds and the light | H |
| Seems a low wet beach half shingle | I |
| With a few sharp rocks upright | H |
| - | |
| Here we sit my darling | J |
| And dream an hour away | K |
| The donkeys are hurried and worried | L |
| But we are not donkeys to day | K |
| - | |
| Through all the weary week dear | M |
| We toil in the murk down there | N |
| Tied to a desk and a counter | O |
| A patient stupid pair | N |
| - | |
| But on Sunday we slip our thether | N |
| And away from the smoke and the smirch | P |
| Too grateful to God for His Sabbath | Q |
| To shut its hours in a church | P |
| - | |
| Away to the green green country | N |
| Under the open sky | A |
| Where the earth s sweet breath is incense | R |
| And the lark sings psalms on high | A |
| - | |
| On Sunday we re Lord and Lady | N |
| With ten times the love and glee | N |
| Of those pale languid rich ones | S |
| Who are always and never free | N |
| - | |
| The drawl and stare and simper | N |
| So fine and cold and staid | T |
| Like exquisite waxwork figures | U |
| That must be kept in the shade | T |
| - | |
| We can laugh out loud when merry | N |
| We can romp at kiss in the ring | J |
| We can take our beer at a public | V |
| We can loll on the grass and sing | J |
| - | |
| Would you grieve very much my darling | J |
| If all yon low wet shore | N |
| Were drowned by a mighty flood tide | W |
| And we never toiled there more | N |
| - | |
| Wicked there is no sin dear | N |
| In an idle dreamer s head | C |
| He turns the world topsy turvy | N |
| To prove that his soul s not dead | C |
| - | |
| I am sinking sinking sinking | J |
| It s hard to sit upright | H |
| Your lap is the softest pillow | X |
| Good night my love good night | H |
| - | |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| How your eyes dazzle down into my soul | Y |
| I drink and drink of their deep violet wine | Z |
| And ever thirst the more although my whole | Y |
| Dazed being whirls in drunkenness divine | Z |
| - | |
| Pout down your lips for that bewildering smile | A2 |
| And kiss me for the interruption Sweet | B2 |
| I had escaped you floating for awhile | A2 |
| In that far cloud ablaze with living heat | B2 |
| - | |
| I floated with it though the solemn skies | C2 |
| I melted with it up the Crystal Sea | N |
| Into the heaven of Heavens and shut my eyes | C2 |
| To fell eternal rest enfolding me | N |
| - | |
| Well I prefer on tyrannous girl down here | N |
| You jealous violet eyed Bewitcher you | D2 |
| To being lord in Mohammed's seventh sphere | N |
| Of meekest hours threescore ten and two | D2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| III | A |
| - | |
| Was it hundreds of years ago my Love | E2 |
| Was it thousands of miles away | K |
| The two poor creatures we know my Love | E2 |
| Were toiling day by day | K |
| Were toiling weary weary | N |
| With many myriads more | N |
| In a City dark and dreary | N |
| On a sullen river s shore | N |
| - | |
| Was it truly a fact or a dream my Love | E2 |
| I think my brain still reels | F2 |
| And my ears still throbbing seem my Love | E2 |
| With the rush and clang of wheels | F2 |
| Of vast machinery roaring | J |
| Forever in skyless gloom | G2 |
| Where the poor slaves peach imploring | J |
| Found peace alone in the tomb | G2 |
| - | |
| Was it hundreds of years ago my Love | E2 |
| Was it thousands of miles away | K |
| Or was it a dream to show my Love | E2 |
| The rapture of today | K |
| This day of holy splendor | N |
| This Sabbath of rich rest | H2 |
| Wherein to God we render | N |
| All praise by being blest | H2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| IV | E2 |
| - | |
| Eight of us promised to meet here | N |
| And tea together at five | E2 |
| And who would ever believe it | I2 |
| We are the first to arrive | E2 |
| - | |
| Oh shame on us in darling | J |
| It is a monstrous crime | J2 |
| To make a tryst with others | U |
| And be before our time | J2 |
| - | |
| Lizzie is off with William | K2 |
| Quite happy for her part | L2 |
| Our sugar in her pocket | M2 |
| And the sweet love in her heart | L2 |
| - | |
| Mary and Dick so grandly | N |
| Parade suburban streets | N2 |
| His waistcoat and her bonnet | M2 |
| Proving the best of treats | N2 |
| - | |
| And Fanny plagues big Robert | O2 |
| With tricks of the wildest glee | N |
| Fanny you'll get in hot water | N |
| If you do not bring us our tea | N |
| - | |
| Why bless me look at that table | I |
| Every one of them there | N |
| 'Ha here at last we have them | P2 |
| The always behindhand pair | N |
| - | |
| 'When the last trumpet solo | X |
| Strikes up instead of the lark | Q2 |
| They'll turn in their sleep just grunting | J |
| Who's up so soon in the dark ' | - |
| - | |
| Babble and gabble you rabble | I |
| A thousand in full yell | R2 |
| And this is your Tower of Babel | I |
| This not to be finished Hotel | R2 |
| - | |
| THOMSON'S NOTE Since finished in a fashion The verses were written in | S2 |
| - | |
| 'You should see it in the drawing | J |
| You'd think a Palace they make | T2 |
| Like the one in the Lady of Lyons | S |
| With this pond for the lovely lake ' | - |
| - | |
| 'I wish it wasn't Sunday | K |
| There's no amusement at all | U2 |
| Who was here Hot cross bun day | K |
| We had such an open air ball | U2 |
| - | |
| 'The bands played polkas waltzes | V2 |
| Quadrilles it was glorious fun | G |
| And each gentleman gave them a penny | N |
| After each dance was done ' | - |
| - | |
| 'Mary is going to chapel | I |
| And what takes her there do you guess | D |
| Her sweet little duck of a bonnet | M2 |
| And her new second hand silk dress ' | - |
| - | |
| 'We went to Church one Sunday | K |
| But felt we had no right there | N |
| For it's only a place for the grand folk | W2 |
| Who come in a carriage and pair | N |
| - | |
| 'And I laughed out loud it was shameful | I |
| But Fanny said Oh what lives | X2 |
| He must have been clever the rascal | I |
| To manage seven hundred wives ' | - |
| - | |
| 'Suppose we play Hunt the Slipper ' | - |
| 'We can't there's the crinoline ' 'Phew | E2 |
| Bother it always a nuisance ' | - |
| 'Hoop de dooden do ' | - |
| - | |
| 'I think I've seen all the girls here | N |
| About a thousand or more | N |
| But none of them half so pretty | N |
| As our own loving four ' | - |
| - | |
| 'Thank you and I've been listening | J |
| To lots of the men the knaves | Y2 |
| But none of them half such humbugs | Y2 |
| As our devoted slaves ' | - |
| - | |
| 'Do you see those purple flushes | Y2 |
| The sun will set in state | Z2 |
| Up all we must cross to the heath friends | Y2 |
| Before it gets too late | Z2 |
| - | |
| 'We will couch in the fern together | N |
| And watch for the moon and the stars | Y2 |
| And the slim tree tops will be lighted | A3 |
| So the boys may light their cigars | Y2 |
| - | |
| 'And while the sunset glory | N |
| Burns down in crimson and gold | B3 |
| LAZY shall tell us a story | N |
| Of his wonderful times of old ' | - |
| - | |
| - | |
| V | N |
| - | |
| Ten thousand years ago 'No more than that ' | - |
| Ten thousand years 'The age of Robert's hat ' | - |
| 'Silence you gods ' 'Pinch Fanny ' 'Now we're good ' | - |
| This place where we are sitting was a wood | C3 |
| Savage and desert save for one rude home | D3 |
| Of wattles plastered with stiff clay and loam | D3 |
| And here in front upon the grassy mire | N |
| Four naked squaws were squatted round a fire | N |
| Then four tall naked wild men crushing through | D2 |
| The tangled Underfeed came into view | D2 |
| Two of them bent beneath a mighty boar | N |
| The third was gashed and bleeding number four | N |
| Strutted full drest in war paint 'That was Dick ' | - |
| Blue of a devilish pattern laid on thick | V |
| - | |
| The squaws jumped up to roast the carcass whole | Y |
| The braves sank silent stark 'gainst root and bole | Y |
| The meat half done they tore it and devoured | E3 |
| Sullenly ravenous the women cowered | E3 |
| Until their lords had finished then partook | V |
| Mist rose all crept into their cabin nook | V |
| And staked the month the floor was one broad bed | E3 |
| Of rushes dried with fox and bearskins spread | E3 |
| Wolves howled and wild cats wailed they snored and so | Y2 |
| The long night passed shedding a storm of snow | Y2 |
| This very night ten thousand years ago | Y2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| VI | E2 |
| - | |
| Ten thousand years before 'Come draw it mild | E3 |
| Don't waste Conk ology like that my child ' | - |
| From where we sit to the horizon's bound | E3 |
| A level brilliant plain was spread all round | E3 |
| As level and as brilliant as a sea | N |
| Under the burning sun high as your knee | N |
| Aflame with flowers yellow and blue and red | E3 |
| Long lines of palm trees marked out there the bed | E3 |
| Of a great river and among them gleamed | E3 |
| A few grey tents Then four swift horsemen streamed | E3 |
| Out of the West magnificent in ire | N |
| Churning the meadow into flakes of fire | N |
| Brandishing monstrous spears as if in fight | E3 |
| They wheeled ducked charged | E3 |
James Thomson
(1)
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About Sunday At Hampstead
Sunday At Hampstead is a poem by James Thomson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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