To Miss - - [harriet Grove] From Miss - - [elizabeth Shelley] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ KKLLMMNNOOBBPPQQLLRR SSTTNNUUVVWWXXSSYYEE BBZZBBA2A2 B2| For your letter dear Hattie accept my best thanks | A |
| Rendered long and amusing by virtue of franks | A |
| Though concise they would please yet the longer the better | B |
| The more news that's crammed in more amusing the letter | B |
| All excuses of etiquette nonsense I hate | C |
| Which only are fit for the tardy and late | C |
| As when converse grows flat of the weather they talk | D |
| How fair the sun shines a fine day for a walk | D |
| Then to politics turn of Burdett's reformation | E |
| One declares it would hurt t'other better the nation | E |
| Will ministers keep sure they've acted quite wrong | F |
| The burden this is of each morning call song | F |
| So is going to you say | G |
| I hope that success her great efforts will pay | G |
| That the Colonel will see her be dazzled outright | H |
| And declare he can't bear to be out of her sight | H |
| Write flaming epistles with love's pointed dart | I |
| Whose sharp little arrow struck right on his heart | I |
| Scold poor innocent Cupid for mischievous ways | J |
| He knows not how much to laud forth her praise | J |
| That he neither eats drinks or sleeps for her sake | K |
| And hopes her hard heart some compassion will take | K |
| A refusal would kill him so desperate his flame | L |
| But he fears for he knows she is not common game | L |
| Then praises her sense wit discernment and grace | M |
| He's not one that's caught by a sly looking face | M |
| Yet that's TOO divine such a black sparkling eye | N |
| At the bare glance of which near a thousand will die | N |
| Thus runs he on meaning but one word in ten | O |
| More than is meant by most such kind of men | O |
| For they're all alike take them one with another | B |
| Begging pardon with the exception of my brother | B |
| Of the drawings you mention much praise I have heard | P |
| Most opinion's the same with the difference of word | P |
| Some get a good name by the voice of the crowd | Q |
| Whilst to poor humble merit small praise is allowed | Q |
| As in parliament votes so in pictures a name | L |
| Oft determines a fate at the altar of fame | L |
| So on Friday this City's gay vortex you quit | R |
| And no longer with Doctors and Johnny cats sit | R |
| Now your parcel's arrived Bysshe's letter shall go | S |
| I hope all your joy mayn't be turned into woe | S |
| Experience will tell you that pleasure is vain | T |
| When it promises sunshine how often comes rain | T |
| So when to fond hope every blessing is nigh | N |
| How oft when we smile it is checked with a sigh | N |
| When Hope gay deceiver in pleasure is dressed | U |
| How oft comes a stroke that may rob us of rest | U |
| When we think ourselves safe and the goal near at hand | V |
| Like a vessel just landing we're wrecked near the strand | V |
| And though memory forever the sharp pang must feel | W |
| 'Tis our duty to bear and our hardship to steel | W |
| May misfortunes dear Girl ne'er thy happiness cloy | X |
| May thy days glide in peace love comfort and joy | X |
| May thy tears with soft pity for other woes flow | S |
| Woes which thy tender heart never may know | S |
| For hardships our own God has taught us to bear | Y |
| Though sympathy's soul to a friend drops a tear | Y |
| Oh dear what sentimental stuff have I written | E |
| Only fit to tear up and play with a kitten | E |
| What sober reflections in the midst of this letter | B |
| Jocularity sure would have suited much better | B |
| But there are exceptions to all common rules | Z |
| For this is a truth by all boys learned at schools | Z |
| Now adieu my dear Hattie I'm sure I must tire | B |
| For if I do you may throw it into the fire | B |
| So accept the best love of your cousin and friend | A2 |
| Which brings this nonsensical rhyme to an end | A2 |
| - | |
| APRIL | B2 |
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1)
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To Miss - - [harriet Grove] From Miss - - [elizabeth Shelley] 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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