A Tale - Epilogue To "the Two Poets Of Croisic." Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCC DEDEFF AGAHII JKJKLL AMAMNN JOJOOO OPOPHG HDHDOO DODOOO QOQORR HJHJOO DODOAA PNPNOO JFJFNN OOOOOO OOOOST OUOVWW HXHXYY

What a pretty tale you told meA
Once upon a timeB
Said you found it somewhere scold meA
Was it prose or was it rhymeB
Greek or Latin Greek you saidC
While your shoulder propped my headC
-
Anyhow there's no forgettingD
This much if no moreE
That a poet pray no pettingD
Yes a bard sir famed of yoreE
Went where suchlike used to goF
Singing for a prize you knowF
-
Well he had to sing nor merelyA
Sing but play the lyreG
Playing was important clearlyA
Quite as singing I desireH
Sir you keep the fact in mindI
For a purpose that's behindI
-
There stood he while deep attentionJ
Held the judges roundK
Judges able I should mentionJ
To detect the slightest soundK
Sung or played amiss such earsL
Had old judges it appearsL
-
None the less he sang out boldlyA
Played in time and tuneM
Till the judges weighing coldlyA
Each note's worth seemed late or soonM
Sure to smile In vain one triesN
Picking faults out take the prizeN
-
When a mischief Were they sevenJ
Strings the lyre possessedO
Oh and afterwards elevenJ
Thank you Well sir who had guessedO
Such ill luck in store it happedO
One of those same seven strings snappedO
-
All was lost then No a cricketO
What cicada PoohP
Some mad thing that left its thicketO
For mere love of music flewP
With its little heart on fireH
Lighted on the crippled lyreG
-
So that when Ah joy our singerH
For his truant stringD
Feels with disconcerted fingerH
What does cricket else but flingD
Fiery heart forth sound the noteO
Wanted by the throbbing throatO
-
Ay and ever to the endingD
Cricket chirps at needO
Executes the hand's intendingD
Promptly perfectly indeedO
Saves the singer from defeatO
With her chirrup low and sweetO
-
Till at ending all the judgesQ
Cry with one assentO
Take the prize a prize who grudgesQ
Such a voice and instrumentO
Why we took your lyre for harpR
So it shrilled us forth F sharpR
-
Did the conqueror spurn the creatureH
Once its service doneJ
That's no such uncommon featureH
In the case when Music's sonJ
Finds his Lotte's power too spentO
For aiding soul developmentO
-
No This other on returningD
Homeward prize in handO
Satisfied his bosom's yearningD
Sir I hope you understandO
Said Some record there must beA
Of this cricket's help to meA
-
So he made himself a statueP
Marble stood life sizeN
On the lyre he pointed at youP
Perched his partner in the prizeN
Never more apart you foundO
Her he throned from him she crownedO
-
That's the tale its applicationJ
Somebody I knowF
Hopes one day for reputationJ
Thro' his poetry that's OhF
All so learned and so wiseN
And deserving of a prizeN
-
If he gains one will some ticketO
When his statue's builtO
Tell the gazer 'Twas a cricketO
Helped my crippled lyre whose liltO
Sweet and low when strength usurpedO
Softness' place i' the scale she chirpedO
-
For as victory was nighestO
While I sang and playedO
With my lyre at lowest highestO
Right alike one string that madeO
'Love' sound soft was snapt in twainS
Never to be heard againT
-
Had not a kind cricket flutteredO
Perched upon the placeU
Vacant left and duly utteredO
'Love Love Love ' whene'er the bassV
Asked the treble to atoneW
For its somewhat sombre droneW
-
But you don't know music WhereforeH
Keep on casting pearlsX
To a poet All I care forH
Is to tell him that a girl'sX
Love comes aptly in when gruffY
Grows his singing There enoughY

Robert Browning



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