Here I Sit With My Paper... Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACDDEFGFHIJIKLMLJN ONPQRQNSTSSNUNNVNVWN NNFNXNRVSVNYZA2B2NNN NC2NC2ND2FD2NE2F2E2N G2D2G2QNNND2NFNSFNFN JD2JFSJSH2D2ND2INI2N JJ2NQB2NFNFNSNJI2NI2 QD2ND2D2NNND2NF2NQVV SSNSF2FNFK2NL2NFD2QD 2| Here I sit with my paper my pen my ink | A |
| First of this thing and that thing | B |
| and t'other thing think | A |
| I Then my thoughts come so pell and | C |
| I mell all into my mind | D |
| That the sense or the subject I never can find | D |
| This word is wrong placed no | E |
| regard to the sense | F |
| The present and future instead of | G |
| past tense | F |
| Then my grammar I want O dear | H |
| what a bore | I |
| I think I shall never attempt to | J |
| write more | I |
| With patience I then my thoughts | K |
| must arraign | L |
| Have them all in due order like | M |
| mutes in a train | L |
| Like them too must wait in due | J |
| patience and thought | N |
| Or else my fine works will all come | O |
| to nought | N |
| My wit too 's so copious it flows | P |
| like a river | Q |
| But disperses its waters on black | R |
| and white never | Q |
| Like smoke it appears independent | N |
| and free | S |
| But ah luckless smoke it all passes | T |
| like thee | S |
| Then at length all my patience entirely | S |
| lost | N |
| My paper and pens in the fire are | U |
| tossed | N |
| But come try again you must | N |
| never despair | V |
| Our Murray's or Entick's are not | N |
| all so rare | V |
| Implore their assistance they'll | W |
| come to your aid | N |
| Perform all your business without | N |
| being paid | N |
| They'll tell you the present tense | F |
| future and past | N |
| Which should come first and which | X |
| should come last | N |
| This Murray will do then to Entick | R |
| repair | V |
| To find out the meaning of any | S |
| word rare | V |
| This they friendly will tell and | N |
| ne'er make you blush | Y |
| With a jeering look taunt or an | Z |
| O fie tush | A2 |
| Then straight all your thoughts in | B2 |
| black and white put | N |
| Not minding the if's the be's and | N |
| the but | N |
| Then read it all over see how it | N |
| will run | C2 |
| How answers the wit the retort | N |
| and the pun | C2 |
| Your writings may then with old | N |
| Socrates vie | D2 |
| May on the same shelf with Demosthenes | F |
| lie | D2 |
| May as Junius be sharp or as Plato | N |
| be sage | E2 |
| The pattern or satire to all of the | F2 |
| age | E2 |
| But stop a mad author I mean not | N |
| to turn | G2 |
| Nor with thirst of applause does my | D2 |
| heated brain burn | G2 |
| Sufficient that sense wit and grammar | Q |
| combined | N |
| My letters may make some slight | N |
| food for the mind | N |
| That my thoughts to my friends I | D2 |
| may freely impart | N |
| In all the warm language that flows | F |
| from the heart | N |
| Hark futurity calls it loudly | S |
| complains | F |
| It bids me step forward and just | N |
| hold the reins | F |
| My excuse shall be humble and | N |
| faithful and true | J |
| Such as I fear can be made but by | D2 |
| few | J |
| Of writers this age has abundance | F |
| and plenty | S |
| Three score and a thousand two | J |
| millions and twenty | S |
| Three score of them wits who all | H2 |
| sharply vie | D2 |
| To try what odd creature they best | N |
| can belie | D2 |
| A thousand are prudes who for | I |
| Charity write | N |
| And fill up their sheets with spleen | I2 |
| envy and spite | N |
| One million are bards who to | J |
| Heaven aspire | J2 |
| And stuff their works full of bombast | N |
| rant and fire | Q |
| T'other million are wags who in | B2 |
| Grub street attend | N |
| And just like a cobbler the old writings | F |
| mend | N |
| The twenty are those who for pulpits | F |
| indite | N |
| And pore over sermons all Saturday | S |
| night | N |
| And now my good friends who | J |
| come after I mean | I2 |
| As I ne'er wore a cassock or dined | N |
| with a dean | I2 |
| Or like cobblers at mending I never | Q |
| did try | D2 |
| Nor with poets in lyrics attempted | N |
| to vie | D2 |
| As for prudes these good souls I | D2 |
| both hate and detest | N |
| So here I believe the matter must | N |
| rest | N |
| I've heard your complaint my | D2 |
| answer I've made | N |
| And since to your calls all the | F2 |
| tribute I've paid | N |
| Adieu my good friend pray never | Q |
| despair | V |
| But grammar and sense and everything dare | V |
| Attempt but to write dashing easy | S |
| and free | S |
| Then take out your grammar and | N |
| pay him his fee | S |
| Be not a coward shrink not to a | F2 |
| tense | F |
| But read it all over and make it | N |
| out sense | F |
| What a tiresome girl pray soon | K2 |
| make an end | N |
| Else my limited patience you'll | L2 |
| quickly expend | N |
| Well adieu I no longer your patience | F |
| will try | D2 |
| So swift to the post now the letter | Q |
| shall fly | D2 |
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1)
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About Here I Sit With My Paper...
Here I Sit With My Paper... is a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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