The Picture Book Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABAABB CDCCDD EFEEFF GHIIHH JKJJLL MNMMNN OPOOPP QRQQQQ QQQQQQ| When I was not quite five years old | A |
| I first saw the blue picture book | B |
| And Fraulein Spitzenburger told | A |
| Stories that sent me hot and cold | A |
| I loathed it yet I had to look | B |
| It was a German book | B |
| - | |
| I smiled at first for she'd begun | C |
| With a back garden broad and green | D |
| And rabbits nibbling there page one | C |
| Turned and the gardener fired his gun | C |
| From the low hedge he lay unseen | D |
| Behind oh it was mean | D |
| - | |
| They're hurt they can't escape and so | E |
| He stuffs them head down in a sack | F |
| Not quite dead wriggling in a row | E |
| And Fraulein laughed Ho ho Ho ho | E |
| And gave my middle a hard smack | F |
| I wish that I'd hit back | F |
| - | |
| Then when I cried she laughed again | G |
| On the next page was a dead boy | H |
| Murdered by robbers in a lane | I |
| His clothes were red with a big stain | I |
| Of blood he held a broken toy | H |
| The poor poor little boy | H |
| - | |
| I had to look there was a town | J |
| Burning where every one got caught | K |
| Then a fish pulled a nigger down | J |
| Into the lake and made him drown | J |
| And a man killed his friend they fought | L |
| For money Fraulein thought | L |
| - | |
| Old Fraulein laughed a horrid noise | M |
| Ho ho Then she explained it all | N |
| How robbers kill the little boys | M |
| And torture them and break their toys | M |
| Robbers are always big and tall | N |
| I cried I was so small | N |
| - | |
| How a man often kills his wife | O |
| How every one dies in the end | P |
| By fire or water or a knife | O |
| If you're not careful in this life | O |
| Even if you can trust your friend | P |
| You won't have long to spend | P |
| - | |
| I hated it old Fraulein picked | Q |
| Her teeth slowly explaining it | R |
| I had to listen Fraulein licked | Q |
| Her fingers several times and flicked | Q |
| The pages over in a fit | Q |
| Of rage I spat at it | Q |
| - | |
| And lying in my bed that night | Q |
| Hungry tired out with sobs I found | Q |
| A stretch of barren years in sight | Q |
| Where right is wrong but strength is right | Q |
| Where weak things must creep underground | Q |
| And I could not sleep sound | Q |
Robert Graves
(1)
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