My Library Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDD EEFFGD HHIIGG FFHHJJ FFKLGG MMNNII GGOOFP QQRRSS TTEEHHH| Like prim Professor of a College | A |
| I primed my shelves with books of knowledge | B |
| And now I stand before them dumb | C |
| Just like a child that sucks its thumb | C |
| And stares forlorn and turns away | D |
| With dolls or painted bricks to play | D |
| - | |
| They glour at me my tomes of learning | E |
| You dolt they jibe you undiscerning | E |
| Moronic oaf you make a fuss | F |
| With highbrow swank selecting us | F |
| Saying I'll read you all some day' | G |
| And now you yawn and turn away | D |
| - | |
| Unwanted wait we with our store | H |
| Of facts and philosophic lore | H |
| The scholarship of all the ages | I |
| Snug packed within our uncut pages | I |
| The mystery of all mankind | G |
| In part revealed but you are blind | G |
| - | |
| You have no time to read you tell us | F |
| Oh do not think that we are jealous | F |
| Of all the trash that wins your favour | H |
| The flimsy fiction that you savour | H |
| We only beg that sometimes you | J |
| Will spare us just an hour or two | J |
| - | |
| For all the minds that went to make us | F |
| Are dust if folk like you forsake us | F |
| And they can only live again | K |
| By virtue of your kindling brain | L |
| In magice print they packed their best | G |
| Come try their wisdom to digest | G |
| - | |
| Said I Alas I am not able | M |
| I lay my cards upon the table | M |
| And with deep shame and blame avow | N |
| I am too old to read you now | N |
| So I will lock you in glass cases | I |
| And shun your sad reproachful faces | I |
| - | |
| - | |
| - | |
| My library is noble planned | G |
| Yet in it desolate I stand | G |
| And though my thousand books I prize | O |
| Feeling a witling in their eyes | O |
| I turn from them in weariness | F |
| To wallow in the Daily Press | P |
| - | |
| For oh I never never will | Q |
| The noble field of knowledge till | Q |
| I pattern words with artful tricks | R |
| As children play with painted bricks | R |
| And realize with futile woe | S |
| Nothing I know nor want to know | S |
| - | |
| My library has windowed nooks | T |
| And so I turn from arid books | T |
| To vastitude of sea and sky | E |
| And like a child content am I | E |
| With peak and plain and brook and tree | H |
| Crying Behold the books for me | H |
| Nature be thou my Library | H |
Robert Service
(1)
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