An After-dinner Poem Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BC DDEE AAFFGGAAAAHHIIJKLLMM NN OOPPQQEERRSSTT DDRRUVWWXXWWYYAAWWWW ZZA2A2B2B2WWC2C2D2D2 EEAA WWWWB2 E2E2WWC2C2WWF2F2WWWW WWG2W WWH2H2WWAA TTWW WWWWI2I2SSIIWWWWJ2J2 IIWWK2K2WWWWL2L2WWWW M2M2 N2N2SSO2P2WWQ2Q2R2R2 S2S2A2A2T2T2SSU2U2AA V2A

TERPSICHOREA
-
Read at the Annual Dinner of the Phi Beta Kappa Society atB
Cambridge AugustC
-
-
IN narrowest girdle O reluctant MuseD
In closest frock and Cinderella shoesD
Bound to the foot lights for thy brief displayE
One zephyr step and then dissolve awayE
-
-
-
Short is the space that gods and men can spareA
To Song's twin brother when she is not thereA
Let others water every lusty lineF
As Homer's heroes did their purple wineF
Pierian revellers Know in strains like theseG
The native juice the real honest squeezeG
Strains that diluted to the twentieth powerA
In yon grave temple might have filled an hourA
Small room for Fancy's many chorded lyreA
For Wit's bright rockets with their trains of fireA
For Pathos struggling vainly to surpriseH
The iron tutor's tear denying eyesH
For Mirth whose finger with delusive wileI
Turns the grim key of many a rusty smileI
For Satire emptying his corrosive floodJ
On hissing Folly's gas exhaling broodK
The pun the fun the moral and the jokeL
The hit the thrust the pugilistic pokeL
Small space for these so pressed by niggard TimeM
Like that false matron known to nursery rhymeM
Insidious Morey scarce her tale begunN
Ere listening infants weep the story doneN
-
Oh had we room to rip the mighty bagsO
That Time the harlequin has stuffed with ragsO
Grant us one moment to unloose the stringsP
While the old graybeard shuts his leather wingsP
But what a heap of motley trash appearsQ
Crammed in the bundles of successive yearsQ
As the lost rustic on some festal dayE
Stares through the concourse in its vast arrayE
Where in one cake a throng of faces runsR
All stuck together like a sheet of bunsR
And throws the bait of some unheeded nameS
Or shoots a wink with most uncertain aimS
So roams my vision wandering over allT
And strives to choose but knows not where to fallT
-
Skins of flayed authors husks of dead reviewsD
The turn coat's clothes the office seeker's shoesD
Scraps from cold feasts where conversation runsR
Through mouldy toasts to oxidated punsR
And grating songs a listening crowd enduresU
Rasped from the throats of bellowing amateursV
Sermons whose writers played such dangerous tricksW
Their own heresiarchs called them hereticsW
Strange that one term such distant poles should linkX
The Priestleyan's copper and the Puseyan's zincX
Poems that shuffle with superfluous legsW
A blindfold minuet over addled eggsW
Where all the syllables that end in edY
Like old dragoons have cuts across the headY
Essays so dark Champollion might despairA
To guess what mummy of a thought was thereA
Where our poor English striped with foreign phraseW
Looks like a zebra in a parson's chaiseW
Lectures that cut our dinners down to rootsW
Or prove by monkeys men should stick to fruitsW
Delusive error as at trifling chargeZ
Professor Gripes will certify at largeZ
Mesmeric pamphlets which to facts appealA2
Each fact as slippery as a fresh caught eelA2
And figured heads whose hieroglyphs inviteB2
To wandering knaves that discount fools at sightB2
Such things as these with heaps of unpaid billsW
And candy puffs and homoeopathic pillsW
And ancient bell crowns with contracted rimC2
And bonnets hideous with expanded brimC2
And coats whose memory turns the sartor paleD2
Their sequels tapering like a lizard's taleD2
How might we spread them to the smiling dayE
And toss them fluttering like the new mown hayE
To laughter's light or sorrow's pitying showerA
Were these brief minutes lengthened to an hourA
-
The narrow moments fit like Sunday shoesW
How vast the heap how quickly must we chooseW
A few small scraps from out his mountain massW
We snatch in haste and let the vagrant passW
This shrunken CRUST that Cerberus could not biteB2
Stamped in one corner 'Pickwick copyright '-
Kneaded by youngsters raised by flattery's yeastE2
Was once a loaf and helped to make a feastE2
He for whose sake the glittering show appearsW
Has sown the world with laughter and with tearsW
And they whose welcome wets the bumper's brimC2
Have wit and wisdom for they all quote himC2
So many a tongue the evening hour prolongsW
With spangled speeches let alone the songsW
Statesmen grow merry lean attorneys laughF2
And weak teetotals warm to half and halfF2
And beardless Tullys new to festive scenesW
Cut their first crop of youth's precocious greensW
And wits stand ready for impromptu clapsW
With loaded barrels and percussion capsW
And Pathos cantering through the minor keysW
Waves all her onions to the trembling breezeW
While the great Feasted views with silent gleeG2
His scattered limbs in Yankee fricasseeW
-
Sweet is the scene where genial friendship playsW
The pleasing game of interchanging praiseW
Self love grimalkin of the human heartH2
Is ever pliant to the master's artH2
Soothed with a word she peacefully withdrawsW
And sheathes in velvet her obnoxious clawsW
And thrills the hand that smooths her glossy furA
With the light tremor of her grateful purrA
-
But what sad music fills the quiet hallT
If on her back a feline rival fallT
And oh what noises shake the tranquil houseW
If old Self interest cheats her of a mouseW
-
Thou O my country hast thy foolish waysW
Too apt to purr at every stranger's praiseW
But if the stranger touch thy modes or lawsW
Off goes the velvet and out come the clawsW
And thou Illustrious but too poorly paidI2
In toasts from Pickwick for thy great crusadeI2
Though while the echoes labored with thy nameS
The public trap denied thy little gameS
Let other lips our jealous laws revileI
The marble Talfourd or the rude CarlyleI
But on thy lids which Heaven forbids to closeW
Where'er the light of kindly nature glowsW
Let not the dollars that a churl deniesW
Weigh like the shillings on a dead man's eyesW
Or if thou wilt be more discreetly blindJ2
Nor ask to see all wide extremes combinedJ2
Not in our wastes the dainty blossoms smileI
That crowd the gardens of thy scanty isleI
There white cheeked Luxury weaves a thousand charmsW
Here sun browned Labor swings his naked armsW
Long are the furrows he must trace betweenK2
The ocean's azure and the prairie's greenK2
Full many a blank his destined realm displaysW
Yet sees the promise of his riper daysW
Far through yon depths the panting engine movesW
His chariots ringing in their steel shod groovesW
And Erie's naiad flings her diamond waveL2
O'er the wild sea nymph in her distant caveL2
While tasks like these employ his anxious hoursW
What if his cornfields are not edged with flowersW
Though bright as silver the meridian beamsW
Shine through the crystal of thine English streamsW
Turbid and dark the mighty wave is whirledM2
That drains our Andes and divides a worldM2
-
But lo a PARCHMENT Surely it would seemN2
The sculptured impress speaks of power supremeN2
Some grave design the solemn page must claimS
That shows so broadly an emblazoned nameS
A sovereign's promise Look the lines affordO2
All Honor gives when Caution asks his wordP2
There sacred Faith has laid her snow white handsW
And awful Justice knit her iron bandsW
Yet every leaf is stained with treachery's dyeQ2
And every letter crusted with a lieQ2
Alas no treason has degraded yetR2
The Arab's salt the Indian's calumetR2
A simple rite that bears the wanderer's pledgeS2
Blunts the keen shaft and turns the dagger's edgeS2
While jockeying senates stop to sign and sealA2
And freeborn statesmen legislate to stealA2
Rise Europe tottering with thine Atlas loadT2
Turn thy proud eye to Freedom's blest abodeT2
And round her forehead wreathed with heavenly flameS
Bind the dark garland of her daughter's shameS
Ye ocean clouds that wrap the angry blastU2
Coil her stained ensign round its haughty mastU2
Or tear the fold that wears so foul a scarA
And drive a bolt through every blackened starA
Once more once only we must stop so soonV2
What have we here A GERA

Oliver Wendell Holmes



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about An After-dinner Poem poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 30 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