The Cottager Poem Rhyme Scheme

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True as the church clock hand the hour pursues	A
He plods about his toils and reads the news	A
And at the blacksmith's shop his hour will stand	B
To talk of 'Lunun' as a foreign land	B
For from his cottage door in peace or strife	C
He neer went fifty miles in all his life	C
His knowledge with old notions still combined	D
Is twenty years behind the march of mind	D
He views new knowledge with suspicious eyes	E
And thinks it blasphemy to be so wise	E
On steam's almighty tales he wondering looks	F
As witchcraft gleaned from old blackletter books	F
Life gave him comfort but denied him wealth	G
He toils in quiet and enjoys his health	G
He smokes a pipe at night and drinks his beer	H
And runs no scores on tavern screens to clear	H
He goes to market all the year about	I
And keeps one hour and never stays it out	I
Een at St Thomas tide old Rover's bark	J
Hails Dapple's trot an hour before it's dark	J
He is a simple worded plain old man	K
Whose good intents take errors in their plan	K
Oft sentimental and with saddened vein	L
He looks on trifles and bemoans their pain	L
And thinks the angler mad and loudly storms	M
With emphasis of speech oer murdered worms	N
And hunters cruel pleading with sad care	O
Pity's petition for the fox and hare	O
Yet feels self satisfaction in his woes	P
For war's crushed myriads of his slaughtered foes	P
He is right scrupulous in one pretext	Q
And wholesale errors swallows in the next	Q
He deems it sin to sing yet not to say	R
A song a mighty difference in his way	R
And many a moving tale in antique rhymes	S
He has for Christmas and such merry times	S
When 'Chevy Chase ' his masterpiece of song	T
Is said so earnest none can think it long	T
Twas the old vicar's way who should be right	U
For the late vicar was his heart's delight	U
And while at church he often shakes his head	V
To think what sermons the old vicar made	W
Downright and orthodox that all the land	B
Who had their ears to hear might understand	B
But now such mighty learning meets his ears	X
He thinks it Greek or Latin which he hears	Y
Yet church receives him every sabbath day	R
And rain or snow he never keeps away	R
All words of reverence still his heart reveres	X
Low bows his head when Jesus meets his ears	X
And still he thinks it blasphemy as well	Z
Such names without a capital to spell	Z
In an old corner cupboard by the wall	A2
His books are laid though good in number small	A2
His Bible first in place from worth and age	B2
Whose grandsire's name adorns the title page	B2
And blank leaves once now filled with kindred claims	C2
Display a world's epitome of names	C2
Parents and children and grandchildren all	A2
Memory's affections in the lists recall	A2
And prayer book next much worn though strongly bound	D2
Proves him a churchman orthodox and sound	D2
The 'Pilgrim's Progress' and the 'Death of Abel'	A2
Are seldom missing from his Sunday table	A2
And prime old Tusser in his homely trim	E2
The first of bards in all the world with him	E2
And only poet which his leisure knows	P
Verse deals in fancy so he sticks to prose	P
These are the books he reads and reads again	F2
And weekly hunts the almanacks for rain	L
Here and no further learning's channels ran	K
Still neighbours prize him as the learned man	K
His cottage is a humble place of rest	G2
With one spare room to welcome every guest	G2
And that tall poplar pointing to the sky	H2
His own hand planted when an idle boy	I2
It shades his chimney while the singing wind	D
Hums songs of shelter to his happy mind	D
Within his cot the largest ears of corn	J2
He ever found his picture frames adorn	J2
Brave Granby's head De Grosse's grand defeat	K2
He rubs his hands and shows how Rodney beat	K2
And from the rafters upon strings depend	L2
Beanstalks beset with pods from end to end	L2
Whose numbers without counting may be seen	M2
Wrote on the almanack behind the screen	M2
Around the corner up on worsted strung	N2
Pooties in wreaths above the cupboard hung	N2
Memory at trifling incidents awakes	P
And there he keeps them for his children's sakes	P
Who when as boys searched every sedgy lane	L
Traced every wood and shattered clothes again	F2
Roaming about on rapture's easy wing	O2
To hunt those very pooty shells in spring	O2
And thus he lives too happy to be poor	P2
While strife neer pauses at so mean a door	Q2
Low in the sheltered valley stands his cot	R2
He hears the mountain storm and feels it not	R2
Winter and spring toil ceasing ere tis dark	J
Rests with the lamb and rises with the lark	J
Content his helpmate to the day's employ	I2
And care neer comes to steal a single joy	I2
Time scarcely noticed turns his hair to grey	R
Yet leaves him happy as a child at play	R

John Clare

The Cottager Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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