November Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABBCBCC DEFEEGEHH AIAIIJIJJ KIKIILILL MLMLLNLNN OPOPPHQGH IMIMMHMGG MMMMMIMII RMRMMRMRR

The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noonA
And if the sun looks through 'tis with a faceB
Beamless and pale and round as if the moonA
When done the journey of her nightly raceB
Had found him sleeping and supplied his placeB
For days the shepherds in the fields may beC
Nor mark a patch of sky blindfold they traceB
The plains that seem without a bush or treeC
Whistling aloud by guess to flocks they cannot seeC
-
The timid hare seems half its fears to loseD
Crouching and sleeping 'neath its grassy lairE
And scarcely startles tho' the shepherd goesF
Close by its home and dogs are barking thereE
The wild colt only turns around to stareE
At passer by then knaps his hide againG
And moody crows beside the road forbearE
To fly tho' pelted by the passing swainH
Thus day seems turn'd to night and tries to wake in vainH
-
The owlet leaves her hiding place at noonA
And flaps her grey wings in the doubling lightI
The hoarse jay screams to see her out so soonA
And small birds chirp and startle with affrightI
Much doth it scare the superstitious wightI
Who dreams of sorry luck and sore dismayJ
While cow boys think the day a dream of nightI
And oft grow fearful on their lonely wayJ
Fancying that ghosts may wake and leave their graves by dayJ
-
Yet but awhile the slumbering weather flingsK
Its murky prison round then winds wake loudI
With sudden stir the startled forest singsK
Winter's returning song cloud races cloudI
And the horizon throws away its shroudI
Sweeping a stretching circle from the eyeL
Storms upon storms in quick succession crowdI
And o'er the sameness of the purple skyL
Heaven paints with hurried hand wild hues of every dyeL
-
At length it comes along the forest oaksM
With sobbing ebbs and uproar gathering highL
The scared hoarse raven on its cradle croaksM
And stockdove flocks in hurried terrors flyL
While the blue hawk hangs o'er them in the skyL
The hedger hastens from the storm begunN
To seek a shelter that may keep him dryL
And foresters low bent the wind to shunN
Scarce hear amid the strife the poacher's muttering gunN
-
The ploughman hears its humming rage beginO
And hies for shelter from his naked toilP
Buttoning his doublet closer to his chinO
He bends and scampers o'er the elting soilP
While clouds above him in wild fury boilP
And winds drive heavily the beating rainH
He turns his back to catch his breath awhileQ
Then ekes his speed and faces it againG
To seek the shepherd's hut beside the rushy plainH
-
The boy that scareth from the spiry wheatI
The melancholy crow in hurry weavesM
Beneath an ivied tree his sheltering seatI
Of rushy flags and sedges tied in sheavesM
Or from the field a shock of stubble thievesM
There he doth dithering sit and entertainH
His eyes with marking the storm driven leavesM
Oft spying nests where he spring eggs had ta'enG
And wishing in his heart 'twas summer time againG
-
Thus wears the month along in checker'd moodsM
Sunshine and shadows tempests loud and calmsM
One hour dies silent o'er the sleepy woodsM
The next wakes loud with unexpected stormsM
A dreary nakedness the field deformsM
Yet many a rural sound and rural sightI
Lives in the village still about the farmsM
Where toil's rude uproar hums from morn till nightI
Noises in which the ears of Industry delightI
-
At length the stir of rural labour's stillR
And Industry her care awhile forgoesM
When Winter comes in earnest to fulfilR
His yearly task at bleak November's closeM
And stops the plough and hides the field in snowsM
When frost locks up the stream in chill delayR
And mellows on the hedge the jetty sloesM
For little birds then Toil hath time for playR
And nought but threshers' flails awake the dreary dayR

John Clare



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