Cowper Green. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBAACC DDAAEEFFGGAAHHAAII JJKKLLAAMMIINNOPQQRA SSAAAAAAIIAAAAAAHHTT AAUUII AAVWXXAAYYTTZZTTYYHH AZA2A2AAB2AC2C2AAD2D 2AAZZE2E2ZZ AAF2G2AAAAQQAAH2H2ZZ B2AAAZZAAZZAAB2B2I2I 2AAJ2K2 OOL2L2M2M2E2E2N2O2AA AACCAAQQAAAAE2E2ZZP2 P2AAAAQ2Q2AAR2S2QQ T2U2B2B2ZZV2V2AAAAZZ

Now eve's hours hot noon succeedA
And day's herald wing'd with speedA
Flush'd with summer's ruddy faceB
Hies to light some cooler placeB
Now industry her hand has droptA
And the din of labour's stoptA
All is silent free from careC
The welcome boon of night to shareC
-
Pleas'd I wander from the townD
Pester'd by the selfish clownD
Whose talk though spun the night aboutA
Hogs cows and horses spin it outA
Far from these so low so vainE
Glad I wind me down the laneE
Where a deeper gloom pervadesF
'Tween the hedges' narrow shadesF
Where a mimic night hour spreadsG
'Neath the ash grove's meeting headsG
Onward then I glad proceedA
Where the insect and the weedA
Court my eye as I pursueH
Something curious worthy viewH
Chiefly though my wanderings bendA
Where the groves of ashes endA
And their ceasing lights the sceneI
O thy lov'd prospect Cowper GreenI
-
Though no rills with sandy sweepJ
Down thy shaggy borders creepJ
Save as when thy rut gull'd lanesK
Run little brooks with hasty rainsK
Though no yellow plains allowL
Food on thee for sheep or cowL
Where on list'ning ears so sweetA
Fall the mellow low and bleatA
Greeting on eve's dewy galeM
Resting fold and milking pailM
Though not these adorn thy sceneI
Still I love thee Cowper GreenI
Some may praise the grass plat whimsN
Which the gard'ner weekly trimsN
And cut hedge and lawn adoreO
Which his shears have smoothen'd o'erP
But give me to ponder stillQ
Nature when she blooms at willQ
In her kindred taste and joyR
Wildness and varietyA
Where the furze has leave to wreatheS
Its dark prickles o'er the heathS
Where the grey grown hawthorns spreadA
Foliag'd houses o'er one's headA
By the spoiling ax untouch'dA
Where the oak tree gnarl'd and notch'dA
Lifts its deep moss'd furrow'd sideA
In nature's grandeur nature's prideA
Such is still my favour'd sceneI
When I seek thee Cowper GreenI
And full pleas'd would nature's childA
Wander o'er thy narrow wildA
Marking well thy shaggy headA
Where uncheck'd the brambles spreadA
Where the thistle meets the sightA
With its down head cotton whiteA
And the nettle keen to viewH
And hemlock with its gloomy hueH
Where the henbane too finds roomT
For its sickly stinking bloomT
And full many a nameless weedA
Neglected left to run to seedA
Seen but with disgust by thoseU
Who judge a blossom by the noseU
Wildness is my suiting sceneI
So I seek thee Cowper GreenI
-
Still thou ought'st to have thy meedA
To show thy flower as well as weedA
Though no fays from May day's lapV
Cowslips on thee care to dropW
Still does nature yearly bringX
Fairest heralds of the springX
On thy wood's warm sunny sideA
Primrose blooms in all its prideA
Violets carpet all thy bowersY
And anemone's weeping flowersY
Dyed in winter's snow and rimeT
Constant to their early timeT
White the leaf strewn ground againZ
And make each wood a garden thenZ
Thine's full many a pleasing bloomT
Of blossoms lost to all perfumeT
Thine the dandelion flowersY
Gilt with dew like suns with showersY
Hare bells thine and bugles blueH
And cuckoo flowers all sweet to viewH
Thy wild woad on each road we seeA
And medicinal betonyZ
By thy woodside railing reevesA2
With antique mullein's flannel leavesA2
These though mean the flowers of wasteA
Planted here in nature's hasteA
Display to the discerning eyeB2
Her loved wild varietyA
Each has charms in nature's bookC2
I cannot pass without a lookC2
And thou hast fragrant herbs and seedA
Which only garden's culture needA
Thy horehound tufts I love them wellD2
And ploughman's spikenard's spicy smellD2
Thy thyme strong scented 'neath one's feetA
Thy marjoram beds so doubly sweetA
And pennyroyals creeping twineZ
These each succeeding each are thineZ
Spreading o'er thee wild and gayE2
Blessing spring or summer's dayE2
As herb flower weed adorn thy sceneZ
Pleas'd I seek thee Cowper GreenZ
-
And I oft zigzag me roundA
Thy uneven heathy groundA
Here a knoll and there a scoopF2
Jostling down and clambering upG2
Which the sandman's delving spadeA
And the pitman's pix have madeA
Though many a year has o'er thee roll'dA
Since the grass first hid the moldA
And many a hole has delv'd thee stillQ
Since peace cloth'd each mimic hillQ
Where the pitmen often findA
Antique coins of various kindA
And 'neath many a loosen'd blockH2
Unlid coffins in the rockH2
Casting up the skull and boneZ
Heedless as one hurls a stoneZ
Not a thought of battles byB2
Bloody times of chivalryA
When each country's kingly lordA
'Gainst his neighbour drew his swordA
And on many a hidden sceneZ
Now a hamlet field or greenZ
Waged his little bloody fightA
To keep his freedom and his rightA
And doubtless such was once the sceneZ
Of thee time shrouded Cowper GreenZ
O how I love a glimpse to seeA
Of hoary bald antiquityA
And often in my musings sighB2
Where'er such relics meet my eyeB2
To think that history's early pageI2
Should yield to black oblivion's rageI2
And e'en without a mention madeA
Resign them to his deadly shadeA
Leaving conjecture but to pauseJ2
That such and such might be the causeK2
-
'Tis sweet the fragments to exploreO
Time's so kind to keep in storeO
Wrecks the cow boy often meetsL2
On the mole hills' thymy seatsL2
When by careless pulling weedsM2
Chance unbares the shining beadsM2
That to tasteful minds displayE2
Relics of the Druid dayE2
Opening on conjecturing eyesN2
Some lone hermit's paradiseO2
Doubtless oft as here it mightA
Where such relics meet the sightA
On that self same spot of groundA
Where the cowboy's beads are foundA
Hermits fled from worldly careC
May have moss'd a cottage thereC
Liv'd on herbs that there aboundA
Food and physic doubly foundA
Herbs that have existence stillQ
In every vale on every hillQ
Whose virtues only in them diedA
As rural life gave way to prideA
Doubtless too oblivion's blotA
Blacks some sacred lonely spotA
As Cowper Green in thee it mayE2
That once was thine in later dayE2
Thou mightst hide thy pilgrim thenZ
From the plague of worldly menZ
Thou mightst here possess thy cellsP2
Wholesome herbs and pilgrim wellsP2
And doubtlessly this very seatA
This thyme capt hill beneath one's feetA
Might be or nearly so the spotA
On which arose his lonely cotA
And on that existing bankQ2
Clothed in its sedges rankQ2
Grass might grow and mosses spreadA
That thatch'd his roof and made his bedA
Yes such might be and such l loveR2
To think and fancy as I roveS2
O'er thy wood encircled hillQ
Like a world shunning pilgrim stillQ
-
Now the dew mists faster fallT2
And the night her gloomy pallU2
Black'ning flings 'tween earth and skyB2
Hiding all things from the eyeB2
Nor broken seam nor thin spun screenZ
The moon can find to peep betweenZ
Now thy unmolested grassV2
Untouch'd even by the assV2
Spindled up its destin'd heightA
Far too sour for sheep to biteA
Drooping hangs each feeble jointA
With a glass nob on its pointA
Fancy now shall leave the sceneZ
And bid good night to Cowper GreenZ

John Clare



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