The Snail Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABC DDEEFGHH IIJJKKLL MMNNOO FFPPQIRRSS EETRUVWWXXYYTT OOZOFA2B2GC2C2OOD2D2 GG

Wise emblem of our politic worldA
Sage snail within thine own self curl'dA
Instruct me softly to make hasteB
Whilst these my feet go slowly fastC
-
Compendious snail thou seem'st to meD
Large Euclid's strict epitomeD
And in each diagram dost flingE
Thee from the point unto the ringE
A figure now triangularF
An oval now and now a squareG
And then a serpentine dost crawlH
Now a straight line now crook'd now allH
-
Preventing rival of the dayI
Th'art up and openest thy rayI
And ere the morn cradles the moonJ
Th'art broke into a beauteous noonJ
Then when the sun sups in the deepK
Thy silver horns ere Cynthia's peepK
And thou from thine own liquid bedL
New Phoebus heav'st thy pleasant headL
-
Who shall a name for thee createM
Deep riddle of mysterious stateM
Bold Nature that gives common birthN
To all products of seas and earthN
Of thee as earthquakes is afraidO
Nor will thy dire deliv'ry aidO
-
Thou thine own daughter then and sireF
That son and mother art entireF
That big still with thy self dost goP
And liv'st an aged embryoP
That like the cubs of IndiaQ
Thou from thyself a while dost playI
But frighted with a dog or gunR
In thine own belly thou dost runR
And as thy house was thine own wombS
So thine own womb concludes thy tombS
-
But now I must analyz'd kingE
Thy economic virtues singE
Thou great stay'd husband still withinT
Thou thee that's thine dost disciplineR
And when thou art to progress bentU
Thou mov'st thy self and tenementV
As warlike Scythians travell'd youW
Remove your men and city tooW
Then after a sad dearth and rainX
Thou scatterest thy silver trainX
And when the trees grow nak'd and oldY
Thou clothest them with cloth of goldY
Which from thy bowels thou dost spinT
And draw from the rich mines withinT
-
Now hast thou chang'd thee saint and madeO
Thy self a fane that's cupola'dO
And in thy wreathed cloister thouZ
Walkest thine own grey friar tooO
Strict and lock'd up th'art hood all o'erF
And ne'er eliminat'st thy doorA2
On salads thou dost feed severeB2
And 'stead of beads thou dropp'st a tearG
And when to rest each calls the bellC2
Thou sleep'st within thy marble cellC2
Where in dark contemplation plac'dO
The sweets of nature thou dost tasteO
Who now with time thy days resolveD2
And in a jelly thee dissolveD2
Like a shot star which doth repairG
Upward and rarify the airG

Richard Lovelace



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