The Banker's Secret - From Readings Over The Teacups - Five Stories And A Sequel Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEE FFGGHHIIJJKKLLMMNNOO PPQQRRFFSSTTUUVVWWKK XXYYZZXXA2A2B2B2XXXX XXC2C2PPXXD2D2FFE2E2 VVYYFFF2F2XX G2G2VVG2G2XXXXG2G2FG 2XXC2G2E2HXXOOHHH2H2 PPXXG2G2C2C2XXXXPP PPG2G2C2C2XXXXG2G2G2 G2FFG2G2EEC2C2FF PPG2G2XXEEG2G2C2C2XX FFOOG2G2PPFFC2C2YY I2I2G2G2XXPPXXFFPP XXPP XXG2G2J2J2PPOOXX PPG2G2G2G2C2C2XXK2K2 XXXXG2G2FFL2L2XXM2M2 G2G2C2C2G2G2The Banker's dinner is the stateliest feast | A |
The town has heard of for a year at least | A |
The sparry lustres shed their broadest blaze | B |
Damask and silver catch and spread the rays | B |
The florist's triumphs crown the daintier spoil | C |
Won from the sea the forest or the soil | C |
The steaming hot house yields its largest pines | D |
The sunless vaults unearth their oldest wines | D |
With one admiring look the scene survey | E |
And turn a moment from the bright display | E |
- | |
Of all the joys of earthly pride or power | F |
What gives most life worth living in an hour | F |
When Victory settles on the doubtful fight | G |
And the last foeman wheels in panting flight | G |
No thrill like this is felt beneath the sun | H |
Life's sovereign moment is a battle won | H |
But say what next To shape a Senate's choice | I |
By the strong magic of the master's voice | I |
To ride the stormy tempest of debate | J |
That whirls the wavering fortunes of the state | J |
Third in the list the happy lover's prize | K |
Is won by honeyed words from women's eyes | K |
If some would have it first instead of third | L |
So let it be I answer not a word | L |
The fourth sweet readers let the thoughtless half | M |
Have its small shrug and inoffensive laugh | M |
Let the grave quarter wear its virtuous frown | N |
The stern half quarter try to scowl us down | N |
But the last eighth the choice and sifted few | O |
Will hear my words and pleased confess them true | O |
- | |
Among the great whom Heaven has made to shine | P |
How few have learned the art of arts to dine | P |
Nature indulgent to our daily need | Q |
Kind hearted mother taught us all to feed | Q |
But the chief art how rarely Nature flings | R |
This choicest gift among her social kings | R |
Say man of truth has life a brighter hour | F |
Than waits the chosen guest who knows his power | F |
He moves with ease itself an angel charm | S |
Lifts with light touch my lady's jewelled arm | S |
Slides to his seat half leading and half led | T |
Smiling but quiet till the grace is said | T |
Then gently kindles while by slow degrees | U |
Creep softly out the little arts that please | U |
Bright looks the cheerful language of the eye | V |
The neat crisp question and the gay reply | V |
Talk light and airy such as well may pass | W |
Between the rested fork and lifted glass | W |
With play like this the earlier evening flies | K |
Till rustling silks proclaim the ladies rise | K |
His hour has come he looks along the chairs | X |
As the Great Duke surveyed his iron squares | X |
That's the young traveller is n't much to show | Y |
Fast on the road but at the table slow | Y |
Next him you see the author in his look | Z |
His forehead lined with wrinkles like a book | Z |
Wrote the great history of the ancient Huns | X |
Holds back to fire among the heavy guns | X |
Oh there's our poet seated at his side | A2 |
Beloved of ladies soft cerulean eyed | A2 |
Poets are prosy in their common talk | B2 |
As the fast trotters for the most part walk | B2 |
And there's our well dressed gentleman who sits | X |
By right divine no doubt among the wits | X |
Who airs his tailor's patterns when he walks | X |
The man that often speaks but never talks | X |
Why should he talk whose presence lends a grace | X |
To every table where he shows his face | X |
He knows the manual of the silver fork | C2 |
Can name his claret if he sees the cork | C2 |
Remark that White top was considered fine | P |
But swear the Juno is the better wine | P |
Is not this talking Ask Quintilian's rules | X |
If they say No the town has many fools | X |
Pause for a moment for our eyes behold | D2 |
The plain unsceptred king the man of gold | D2 |
The thrice illustrious threefold millionnaire | F |
Mark his slow creeping dead metallic stare | F |
His eyes dull glimmering like the balance pan | E2 |
That weighs its guinea as he weighs his man | E2 |
Who's next An artist in a satin tie | V |
Whose ample folds defeat the curious eye | V |
And there 's the cousin must be asked you know | Y |
Looks like a spinster at a baby show | Y |
Hope he is cool they set him next the door | F |
And likes his place between the gap and bore | F |
Next comes a Congressman distinguished guest | F2 |
We don't count him they asked him with the rest | F2 |
And then some white cravats with well shaped ties | X |
And heads above them which their owners prize | X |
- | |
Of all that cluster round the genial board | G2 |
Not one so radiant as the banquet's lord | G2 |
Some say they fancy but they know not why | V |
A shade of trouble brooding in his eye | V |
Nothing perhaps the rooms are overhot | G2 |
Yet see his cheek the dull red burning spot | G2 |
Taste the brown sherry which he does not pass | X |
Ha That is brandy see him fill his glass | X |
But not forgetful of his feasting friends | X |
To each in turn some lively word he sends | X |
See how he throws his baited lines about | G2 |
And plays his men as anglers play their trout | G2 |
A question drops among the listening crew | F |
And hits the traveller pat on Timbuctoo | G2 |
We're on the Niger somewhere near its source | X |
Not the least hurry take the river's course | X |
Through Kissi Foota Kankan Bammakoo | C2 |
Bambarra Sego so to Timbuctoo | G2 |
Thence down to Youri stop him if we can | E2 |
We can't fare worse wake up the Congressman | H |
The Congressman once on his talking legs | X |
Stirs up his knowledge to its thickest dregs | X |
Tremendous draught for dining men to quaff | O |
Nothing will choke him but a purpling laugh | O |
A word a shout a mighty roar 't is done | H |
Extinguished lassoed by a treacherous pun | H |
A laugh is priming to the loaded soul | H2 |
The scattering shots become a steady roll | H2 |
Broke by sharp cracks that run along the line | P |
The light artillery of the talker's wine | P |
The kindling goblets flame with golden dews | X |
The hoarded flasks their tawny fire diffuse | X |
And the Rhine's breast milk gushes cold and bright | G2 |
Pale as the moon and maddening as her light | G2 |
With crimson juice the thirsty southern sky | C2 |
Sucks from the hills where buried armies lie | C2 |
So that the dreamy passion it imparts | X |
Is drawn from heroes' bones and lovers' hearts | X |
But lulls will come the flashing soul transmits | X |
Its gleams of light in alternating fits | X |
The shower of talk that rattled down amain | P |
Ends in small patterings like an April's rain | P |
- | |
With the dry sticks all bonfires are begun | P |
Bring the first fagot proser number one | P |
The voices halt the game is at a stand | G2 |
Now for a solo from the master hand | G2 |
'T is but a story quite a simple thing | C2 |
An aria touched upon a single string | C2 |
But every accent comes with such a grace | X |
The stupid servants listen in their place | X |
Each with his waiter in his lifted hands | X |
Still as a well bred pointer when he stands | X |
A query checks him Is he quite exact | G2 |
This from a grizzled square jawed man of fact | G2 |
The sparkling story leaves him to his fate | G2 |
Crushed by a witness smothered with a date | G2 |
As a swift river sown with many a star | F |
Runs brighter rippling on a shallow bar | F |
The smooth divine suggests a graver doubt | G2 |
A neat quotation bowls the parson out | G2 |
Then sliding gayly from his own display | E |
He laughs the learned dulness all away | E |
So with the merry tale and jovial song | C2 |
The jocund evening whirls itself along | C2 |
Till the last chorus shrieks its loud encore | F |
And the white neckcloths vanish through the door | F |
- | |
One savage word The menials know its tone | P |
And slink away the master stands alone | P |
Well played by breathe not what were best unheard | G2 |
His goblet shivers while he speaks the word | G2 |
If wine tells truth and so have said the wise | X |
It makes me laugh to think how brandy lies | X |
Bankrupt to morrow millionnaire to day | E |
The farce is over now begins the play | E |
The spring he touches lets a panel glide | G2 |
An iron closet harks beneath the slide | G2 |
Bright with such treasures as a search might bring | C2 |
From the deep pockets of a truant king | C2 |
Two diamonds eyeballs of a god of bronze | X |
Bought from his faithful priest a pious bonze | X |
A string of brilliants rubies three or four | F |
Bags of old coin and bars of virgin ore | F |
A jewelled poniard and a Turkish knife | O |
Noiseless and useful if we come to strife | O |
Gone As a pirate flies before the wind | G2 |
And not one tear for all he leaves behind | G2 |
From all the love his better years have known | P |
Fled like a felon ah but not alone | P |
The chariot flashes through a lantern's glare | F |
Oh the wild eyes the storm of sable hair | F |
Still to his side the broken heart will cling | C2 |
The bride of shame the wife without the ring | C2 |
Hark the deep oath the wail of frenzied woe | Y |
Lost lost to hope of Heaven and peace below | Y |
- | |
He kept his secret but the seed of crime | I2 |
Bursts of itself in God's appointed time | I2 |
The lives he wrecked were scattered far and wide | G2 |
One never blamed nor wept she only died | G2 |
None knew his lot though idle tongues would say | X |
He sought a lonely refuge far away | X |
And there with borrowed name and altered mien | P |
He died unheeded as he lived unseen | P |
The moral market had the usual chills | X |
Of Virtue suffering from protested bills | X |
The White Cravats to friendship's memory true | F |
Sighed for the past surveyed the future too | F |
Their sorrow breathed in one expressive line | P |
Gave pleasant dinners who has got his wine | P |
- | |
- | |
- | |
The reader paused the Teacups knew his ways | X |
He like the rest was not averse to praise | X |
Voices and hands united every one | P |
Joined in approval Number Three well done | P |
- | |
Now for the Exile's story if my wits | X |
Are not at fault his curious record fits | X |
Neatly as sequel to the tale we've heard | G2 |
Not wholly wild the fancy nor absurd | G2 |
That this our island hermit well might be | J2 |
That story's hero fled from over sea | J2 |
Come Number Seven we would not have you strain | P |
The fertile powers of that inventive brain | P |
Read us 'The Exile's Secret' there's enough | O |
Of dream like fiction and fantastic stuff | O |
In the strange web of mystery that invests | X |
The lonely isle where sea birds build their nests | X |
- | |
Lies naught but lies so Number Seven began | P |
No harm was known of that secluded man | P |
He lived alone who would n't if he might | G2 |
And leave the rogues and idiots out of sight | G2 |
A foolish story still I'll do my best | G2 |
The house was real don't believe the rest | G2 |
How could a ruined dwelling last so long | C2 |
Without its legends shaped in tale and song | C2 |
Who was this man of whom they tell the lies | X |
Perhaps why not NAPOLEON in disguise | X |
So some said kidnapped from his ocean coop | K2 |
Brought to this island in a coasting sloop | K2 |
Meanwhile a sham Napoleon in his place | X |
Played Nap and saved Sir Hudson from disgrace | X |
Such was one story others used to say | X |
No not Napoleon it was Marshal Ney | X |
Shot Yes no doubt but not with balls of lead | G2 |
But balls of pith that never shoot folks dead | G2 |
He wandered round lived South for many a year | F |
At last came North and fixed his dwelling here | F |
Choose which you will of all the tales that pile | L2 |
Their mingling fables on the tree crowned isle | L2 |
Who wrote this modest version I suppose | X |
That truthful Teacup our Dictator knows | X |
Made up of various legends it would seem | M2 |
The sailor's yarn the crazy poet's dream | M2 |
Such tales as this by simple souls received | G2 |
At first are stared at and at last believed | G2 |
From threads like this the grave historians try | C2 |
To weave their webs and never know they lie | C2 |
Hear then the fables that have gathered round | G2 |
The lonely home an exiled stranger found | G2 |
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< A Familiar Letter - To Several Correspondents Poem
Hymn At The Funeral Services Of Charles Sumner, April 29, 1874 Poem>>
Write your comment about The Banker's Secret - From Readings Over The Teacups - Five Stories And A Sequel poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Best Poems of Oliver Wendell Holmes