Stella's Birth-day.[1] 1719-20 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK LLLLLLLLLLMMLLNNOOOO PQLLRROOLLSSTTOOUU| WRITTEN A D Stella | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| All travellers at first incline | B |
| Where'er they see the fairest sign | B |
| And if they find the chambers neat | C |
| And like the liquor and the meat | C |
| Will call again and recommend | D |
| The Angel Inn to every friend | D |
| And though the painting grows decay'd | E |
| The house will never lose its trade | E |
| Nay though the treach'rous tapster Thomas | F |
| Hangs a new Angel two doors from us | F |
| As fine as daubers' hands can make it | G |
| In hopes that strangers may mistake it | G |
| We think it both a shame and sin | H |
| To quit the true old Angel Inn | H |
| Now this is Stella's case in fact | I |
| An angel's face a little crack'd | I |
| Could poets or could painters fix | J |
| How angels look at thirty six | J |
| This drew us in at first to find | K |
| In such a form an angel's mind | K |
| And every virtue now supplies | L |
| The fainting rays of Stella's eyes | L |
| See at her levee crowding swains | L |
| Whom Stella freely entertains | L |
| With breeding humour wit and sense | L |
| And puts them to so small expense | L |
| Their minds so plentifully fills | L |
| And makes such reasonable bills | L |
| So little gets for what she gives | L |
| We really wonder how she lives | L |
| And had her stock been less no doubt | M |
| She must have long ago run out | M |
| Then who can think we'll quit the place | L |
| When Doll hangs out a newer face | L |
| Nail'd to her window full in sight | N |
| All Christian people to invite | N |
| Or stop and light at Chloe's head | O |
| With scraps and leavings to be fed | O |
| Then Chloe still go on to prate | O |
| Of thirty six and thirty eight | O |
| Pursue your trade of scandal picking | P |
| Your hints that Stella is no chicken | Q |
| Your innuendoes when you tell us | L |
| That Stella loves to talk with fellows | L |
| But let me warn you to believe | R |
| A truth for which your soul should grieve | R |
| That should you live to see the day | O |
| When Stella's locks must all be gray | O |
| When age must print a furrow'd trace | L |
| On every feature of her face | L |
| Though you and all your senseless tribe | S |
| Could Art or Time or Nature bribe | S |
| To make you look like Beauty's Queen | T |
| And hold for ever at fifteen | T |
| No bloom of youth can ever blind | O |
| The cracks and wrinkles of your mind | O |
| All men of sense will pass your door | U |
| And crowd to Stella's at four score | U |
Jonathan Swift
(1)
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