On Lending A Punch-bowl Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABB CCCC DDEE FFGG HHGG IIJJ KKLL BBMM GGNN OPBB QRBB GGII SSMM| This ancient silver bowl of mine it tells of good old times | A |
| Of joyous days and jolly nights and merry Christmas times | A |
| They were a free and jovial race but honest brave and true | B |
| Who dipped their ladle in the punch when this old bowl was new | B |
| - | |
| A Spanish galleon brought the bar so runs the ancient tale | C |
| T was hammered by an Antwerp smith whose arm was like a flail | C |
| And now and then between the strokes for fear his strength should fail | C |
| He wiped his brow and quaffed a cup of good old Flemish ale | C |
| - | |
| T was purchased by an English squire to please his loving dame | D |
| Who saw the cherubs and conceived a longing for the same | D |
| And oft as on the ancient stock another twig was found | E |
| T was filled with candle spiced and hot and handed smoking round | E |
| - | |
| But changing hands it reached at length a Puritan divine | F |
| Who used to follow Timothy and take a little wine | F |
| But hated punch and prelacy and so it was perhaps | G |
| He went to Leyden where he found conventicles and schnapps | G |
| - | |
| And then of course you know what s next it left the Dutchman s shore | H |
| With those that in the Mayflower came a hundred souls and more | H |
| Along with all the furniture to fill their new abodes | G |
| To judge by what is still on hand at least a hundred loads | G |
| - | |
| T was on a dreary winter s eve the night was closing dim | I |
| When brave Miles Standish took the bowl and filled it to the brim | I |
| The little Captain stood and stirred the posset with his sword | J |
| And all his sturdy men at arms were ranged about the board | J |
| - | |
| He poured the fiery Hollands in the man that never feared | K |
| He took a long and solemn draught and wiped his yellow beard | K |
| And one by one the musketeers the men that fought and prayed | L |
| All drank as t were their mother s milk and not a man afraid | L |
| - | |
| That night affrighted from his nest the screaming eagle flew | B |
| He heard the Pequot s ringing whoop the soldier s wild halloo | B |
| And there the sachem learned the rule he taught to kith and kin | M |
| Run from the white man when you find he smells of Hollands gin | M |
| - | |
| A hundred years and fifty more had spread their leaves and snows | G |
| A thousand rubs had flattened down each little cherub s nose | G |
| When once again the bowl was filled but not in mirth or joy | N |
| T was mingled by a mother s hand to cheer her parting boy | N |
| - | |
| Drink John she said 't will do you good poor child you ll never bear | O |
| This working in the dismal trench out in the midnight air And if | P |
| God bless me you were hurt 't would keep away the chill | B |
| So John did drink and well he wrought that night at Bunker s Hill | B |
| - | |
| I tell you there was generous warmth in good old English cheer | Q |
| I tell you t was a pleasant thought to bring its symbol here | R |
| T is but the fool that loves excess hast thou a drunken soul | B |
| Thy bane is in thy shallow skull not in my silver bowl | B |
| - | |
| I love the memory of the past its pressed yet fragrant flowers | G |
| The moss that clothes its broken walls the ivy on its towers | G |
| Nay this poor bauble it bequeathed my eyes grow moist and dim | I |
| To think of all the vanished joys that danced around its brim | I |
| - | |
| Then fill a fair and honest cup and bear it straight to me | S |
| The goblet hallows all it holds whate er the liquid be | S |
| And may the cherubs on its face protect me from the sin | M |
| That dooms one to those dreadful words My dear where have you been | M |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
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