A Satire. A Humble Imitation Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGAAHIJJ DDKKLLMMDDNNOPNNQQRR AADDSSTTDDUVWWXXYYZZ A2B2TTDDC2C2D2D2E2E2 F2F2

The rage for writing has spread far and wideA
Letters on letters now are multipliedA
And every mortal who can hold a penB
Aspires in haste to teach his fellow menB
Paper in wasted reams and seas of inkC
Prove how they write who never learned to thinkC
Some who have talents some who have not senseD
Some who to decency make no pretenceD
But skilled in arts which better men deceiveE
They spread the slander which they don't believeE
A township turned to scribblers is a sightF
Venting their malice all in black and whiteF
And with apparently no other aimG
Than merely to be foaming out their shameG
My own my beautiful my prideA
I must lament where strangers will derideA
O'er thy degenerate sons whose strife and hateH
Will make thee as a desert desolateI
Men of gray hairs are not ashamed to striveJ
From house to house to keep the flame aliveJ
Whispering inventing without rest or pauseD
With a zeal worthy of a better causeD
Drilling low agents teaching them to flyK
And spread on every fence the last new lieK
Oh that it were with us as in the pastL
And that our peace had been ordained to lastL
When kindness reigned and angry passions sleptM
E'er hatred's serpent to our Eden creptM
Are these the same or of a different raceD
From those who made this spot a pleasant placeD
When cheerful toil mingled with praise and prayerN
Wealth without pride and plenty without careN
When comely matrons wore the homespun suitO
And mocassons encased his worship's footP
No brawling then disturbed the quiet airN
No drunkard's ravings and no swearer's prayerN
The godly fathers all are passed awayQ
Gone to their rest before the evil dayQ
The sons serve other gods bow at their shrineR
Of the bright dollar or the gloomy pineR
While envy jealousy and low purse prideA
Those who were loving brethren now divideA
Like fabled pismires how the scrambling raceD
For the small honours of a country placeD
And thou who hast a spark of nature's fireS
What are thy aims son of a godly sireS
Thy good right hand and calculating brainT
Have given thee wealth with honour in its trainT
Others may strive with anxious cares and fearsD
Thou hast much goods laid up for many yearsD
Wilt thou forget the line from which thou'rt sprungU
Deem rich men always right and poor men wrongV
Forget thy early friends and bearing freeW
When thou art angry have no charityW
Shall wealth not worth and vulgar pomp and showX
Be the sum total of all good belowX
Shall we then cease for innate worth to scanY
Look to the new made coat and not the manY
Those who are raised in such an atmosphereZ
Are they who have the ever ready sneerZ
At honest poverty and at the roadA2
To competence which their own fathers trodB2
If men of worth will stoop among the vainT
We turn from them with sorrow and with painT
Man may repent reform his steps retraceD
But is there renovation for a placeD
Will a community forego their strifeC2
Bury the tomahawk and scalping knifeC2
Will pride and will self interest prevailD2
Where reason and where revelation failD2
Like cause makes like effect abroad at homeE2
In this small township as in Greece or RomeE2
One motto is my moral true and sadF2
Whom the gods would destroy they first make madF2

Nora Pembroke (margaret Moran Dixon Mcdougall)



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A Satire. A Humble Imitation is a poem by Nora Pembroke (margaret Moran Dixon Mcdougall). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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