Elegy Ii: The Anagram Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDEEFFEGHHIIJJKK EELLEEMFEEHHNOJJEEEE PPEEEEEEGPQQRSLH

Marry and love thy Flavia for sheA
Hath all things whereby others beautious beA
For though her eyes be small her mouth is greatB
Though they be ivory yet her teeth be jetC
Though they be dim yet she is light enoughD
And though her harsh hair fall her skin is roughD
What though her cheeks be yellow her hair's redE
Give her thine and she hath a maidenheadE
These things are beauty's elements where theseF
Meet in one that one must as perfect pleaseF
If red and white and each good qualityE
Be in thy wench ne'er ask where it doth lieG
In buying things perfumed we ask if thereH
Be musk and amber in it but not whereH
Though all her parts be not in th' usual placeI
She hath yet an anagram of a good faceI
If we might put the letters but one wayJ
In the lean dearth of words what could we sayJ
When by the Gamut some Musicians makeK
A perfect song others will undertakeK
By the same Gamut changed to equal itE
Things simply good can never be unfitE
She's fair as any if all be like herL
And if none be then she is singularL
All love is wonder if we justly doE
Account her wonderful why not lovely tooE
Love built on beauty soon as beauty diesM
Choose this face changed by no deformitiesF
Women are all like angels the fair beE
Like those which fell to worse but such as theeE
Like to good angels nothing can impairH
'Tis less grief to be foul than t' have been fairH
For one night's revels silk and gold we chooseN
But in long journeys cloth and leather useO
Beauty is barren oft best husbands sayJ
There is best land where there is foulest wayJ
Oh what a sovereign plaster will she beE
If thy past sins have taught thee jealousyE
Here needs no spies nor eunuchs her commitE
Safe to thy foes yea to a MarmositE
When Belgia's cities the round countries drownP
That dirty foulness guards and arms the townP
So doth her face guard her and so for theeE
Which forced by business absent oft must beE
She whose face like clouds turns the day to nightE
Who mightier than the sea makes Moors seem whiteE
Who though seven years she in the stews had laidE
A Nunnery durst receive and think a maidE
And though in childbed's labour she did lieG
Midwives would swear 'twere but a tympanyP
Whom if she accuse herself I credit lessQ
Than witches which impossibles confessQ
Whom dildoes bedstaves and her velvet glassR
Would be as loath to touch as Joseph wasS
One like none and liked of none fittest wereL
For things in fashion every man will wearH

John Donne



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about Elegy Ii: The Anagram poem by John Donne


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 17 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets