The Shepherd's Calendar - June Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEEFFEEGGHHIIJJ HHKKGGLLEEMMNNOOPPQQ RSGGGGGGHHKKGGEETTUU EEEEVVWWGGGGXXYYAAZZ GGA2A2HHGGEEHHB2B2C2 C2GGEED2D2E2E2EED2D2 GD2GGGGF2F2D2D2HHEED 2D2GBGGGGGGGGGGD2D2G 2G2GGD2D2D2D2D2D2H2H 2EEGGD2D2EEEEXXD2D2G GGG

Now summer is in flower and natures humA
Is never silent round her sultry bloomB
Insects as small as dust are never doneC
Wi' glittering dance and reeling in the sunC
And green wood fly and blossom haunting beeD
Are never weary of their melodyD
Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twineE
Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbineE
That lift athirst their slender throated flowersF
Agape for dew falls and for honey showersF
These round each bush in sweet disorder runE
And spread their wild hues to the sultry sunE
Where its silk netting lace on twigs and leavesG
The mottld spider at eves leisure weavesG
That every morning meet the poets eyeH
Like faireys dew wet dresses hung to dryH
The wheat swells into ear and leaves belowI
The may month wild flowers and their gaudy showI
Bright carlock bluecap and corn poppy redJ
Which in such clouds of colors wid e ly spreadJ
That at the sun rise might to fancys eyeH
Seem to reflect the many colord skyH
And leverets seat and lark and partridge nestK
It leaves a schoolboys height in snugger restK
And oer the weeders labour overgrowsG
Who now in merry groups each morning goesG
To willow skirted meads wi fork and rakeL
The scented hay cocks in long rows to makeL
Where their old visitors in russet brownE
The haytime butterflyes dance up and downE
And gads that teaze like whasps the timid maidM
And drive the herdboys cows to pond and shadeM
Who when his dogs assistance fails to stopN
Is forcd his half made oaten pipes to dropN
And start and hallo thro the dancing heatO
To keep their gadding tumult from the wheatO
Who in their rage will dangers overlookP
And leap like hunters oer the pasture brookP
Brushing thro blossomd beans in maddening hasteQ
And 'stroying corn they scarce can stop to tasteQ
Labour pursues its toil in weary moodR
And feign woud rest wi shadows in the woodS
The mowing gangs bend oer the beeded grassG
Where oft the gipseys hungry journeying assG
Will turn its wishes from the meadow pathsG
Listning the rustle of the falling swathsG
The ploughman sweats along the fallow valesG
And down the suncrackt furrow slowly trailsG
Oft seeking when athirst the brooks supplyH
Where brushing eager the brinks bushes byeH
For coolest water he oft brakes the restK
Of ring dove brooding oer its idle nestK
And there as loath to leave the swaily placeG
He'll stand to breath and whipe his burning faceG
The shepherds idle hours are over nowE
Nor longer leaves him neath the hedgrow boughE
On shadow pillowd banks and lolling stileT
Wilds looses now their summer friends awhileT
Shrill whistles barking dogs and chiding scoldU
Drive bleating sheep each morn from fallow foldU
To wash pits where the willow shadows leanE
Dashing them in their fold staind coats to cleanE
Then turnd on sunning sward to dry agenE
They drove them homeward to the clipping penE
In hurdles pent where elm or sycamoreV
Shut out the sun or in some threshing floorV
There they wi scraps of songs and laugh and taleW
Lighten their anual toils while merry aleW
Goes round and gladdens old mens hearts to praiseG
The thread bare customs of old farmers daysG
Who while the sturting sheep wi trembling fearsG
Lies neath the snipping of his harmless sheersG
Recalls full many a thing by bards unsungX
And pride forgot that reignd when he was youngX
How the hugh bowl was in the middle setY
At breakfast time as clippers yearly metY
Filld full of frumity where yearly swumA
The streaking sugar and the spotting plumbA
Which maids coud never to the table bringZ
Without one rising from the merry ringZ
To lend a hand who if twas taen amissG
Woud sell his kindness for a stolen kissG
The large stone pitcher in its homly trimA2
And clouded pint horn wi its copper rimA2
Oer which rude healths was drank in spirits highH
From the best broach the cellar woud supplyH
While sung the ancient swains in homly ryhmesG
Songs that were pictures of the good old timesG
When leathern bottles held the beer nut brownE
That wakd the sun wi songs and sung him downE
Thus will the old man ancient ways bewailH
Till toiling sheers gain ground upon the taleH
And brakes it off when from the timid sheepB2
The fleece is shorn and wi a fearfull leapB2
He starts while wi a pressing handC2
His sides are printed by the tarry brandC2
Shaking his naked skin wi wondering joysG
And fresh ones are tugd in by sturdy boysG
Who when theyre thrown down neath the sheering swainE
Will wipe his brow and start his tale againE
Tho fashions haughtv frown hath thrown asideD2
Half the old forms simplicity supplydD2
Yet their are some prides winter deigns to spareE2
Left like green ivy when the trees are bareE2
And now when sheering of the flocks are doneE
Some ancient customs mixd wi harmless funE
Crowns the swains merry toils the timid maidD2
Pleasd to be praisd and yet of praise affraidD2
Seeks her best flowers not those of woods and fieldsG
But such as every farmers garden yieldD2
Fine cabbage roses painted like her faceG
And shining pansys trimmd in golden laceG
And tall tuft larkheels featherd thick wi flowersG
And woodbines climbing oer the door in bowersG
And London tufts of many a mottld hueF2
And pale pink pea and monkshood darkly blueF2
And white and purple jiliflowers that stayD2
Lingering in blossom summer half awayD2
And single blood walls of a lucious smellH
Old fashiond flowers which huswives love so wellH
And columbines stone blue or deep night brownE
Their honey comb like blossoms hanging downE
Each cottage gardens fond adopted childD2
Tho heaths still claim them where they yet grow wildD2
Mong their old wild companions summer bloomsG
Furze brake and mozzling ling and golden broomB
Snap dragons gaping like to sleeping clownsG
And 'clipping pinks' which maidens sunday gownsG
Full often wear catcht at by tozing chapsG
Pink as the ribbons round their snowy capsG
'Bess in her bravery' too of glowing dyesG
As deep as sunsets crimson pillowd skyesG
And majoram notts sweet briar and ribbon grassG
And lavender the choice of every lassG
And sprigs of lads love all familiar namesG
Which every garden thro the village claimsG
These the maid gathers wi a coy delightD2
And tyes them up in readiness for nightD2
Giving to every swain tween love and shameG2
Her 'clipping poseys' as their yearly claimG2
And turning as he claims the custom kissG
Wi stifld smiles half ankering after blissG
She shrinks away and blushing calls it rudeD2
But turns to smile and hopes to be pursuedD2
While one to whom the seeming hint appliedD2
Follows to claim it and is not denydD2
No doubt a lover for within his coatD2
His nosegay owns each flower of better sortD2
And when the envious mutter oer their beerH2
And nodd the secret to his neighbor nearH2
Raising the laugh to make the mutter knownE
She blushes silent and will not disownE
And ale and songs and healths and merry waysG
Keeps up a shadow of old farmers daysG
But the old beachen bowl that once supplydD2
Its feast of frumity is thrown asideD2
And the old freedom that was living thenE
When masters made them merry wi their menE
Whose coat was like his neighbors russet brownE
And whose rude speech was vulgar as his clownE
Who in the same horn drank the rest amongX
And joind the chorus while a labourer sungX
All this is past and soon may pass awayD2
The time torn remnant of the holidayD2
As proud distinction makes a wider spaceG
Between the genteel and the vulgar raceG
Then must they fade as pride oer custom showersG
Its blighting mildew on her feeble flowersG

John Clare



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