Of The Mean And Sure Estate Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABA BCB CDC DED EDE DFD FGF GDG DFD FHF HIH IDI DJD KDL DFD FJF JBJ BBB BMB MNM NHN HOH CDC DPD PQP QDQ DBD BDB DBD BKR KDK DDD DMD MSM STU TDT DBDBMy mother's maids when they did sew and spin | A |
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse | B |
That for because her livelood was but thin | A |
- | |
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house | B |
She thought herself endur egrave d too much pain | C |
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse | B |
- | |
That when the furrows swimm egrave d with the rain | C |
She must lie cold and wet in sorry plight | D |
And worse than that bare meat there did remain | C |
- | |
To comfort her when she her house had dight | D |
Sometime a barley corn sometime a bean | E |
For which she laboured hard both day and night | D |
- | |
In harvest time whilst she might go and glean | E |
And where store was stroy egrave d with the flood | D |
Then well away for she undone was clean | E |
- | |
Then was she fain to take instead of food | D |
Sleep if she might her hunger to beguile | F |
My sister quod she hath a living good | D |
- | |
And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile | F |
In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry | G |
In bed of down the dirt doth not defile | F |
- | |
Her tender foot she laboureth not as I | G |
Richly she feedeth and at the richman's cost | D |
And for her meat she needs not crave nor cry | G |
- | |
By sea by land of the delicates the most | D |
Her cater seeks and spareth for no peril | F |
She feedeth on boiled bacon meet and roast | D |
- | |
And hath thereof neither charge nor travail | F |
And when she list the liquor of the grape | H |
Doth glad her heart till that her belly swell | F |
- | |
And at this journey she maketh but a jape | H |
So forth she goeth trusting of all this wealth | I |
With her sister her part so for to shape | H |
- | |
That if she might keep herself in health | I |
To live a lady while her life doth last | D |
And to the door now is she come by stealth | I |
- | |
And with her foot anon she scrapeth full fast | D |
Th' other for fear durst not well scarce appear | J |
Of every noise so was the wretch aghast | D |
- | |
At last she ask egrave d softly who was there | K |
And in her language as well as she could | D |
Peep quod the other Sister I am here | L |
- | |
Peace quod the towny mouse why speakest thou so loud | D |
And by the hand she took her fair and well | F |
Welcome quod she my sister by the Rood | D |
- | |
She feasted her that joy it was to tell | F |
The fare they had they drank the wine so clear | J |
And as to purpose now and then it fell | F |
- | |
She cheer egrave d her with How sister what cheer | J |
Amids this joy befell a sorry chance | B |
That well away the stranger bought full dear | J |
- | |
The fare she had for as she look askance | B |
Under a stool she spied two steaming eyes | B |
In a round head with sharp ears In France | B |
- | |
Was never mouse so fear'd for the unwise | B |
Had not i seen such a beast before | M |
Yet had nature taught her after her guise | B |
- | |
To know her foe and dread him evermore | M |
The towny mouse fled she know whither to go | N |
Th' other had no shift but wonders sore | M |
- | |
Feard of her life At home she wished her tho | N |
And to the door alas as she did skip | H |
The Heaven it would lo and eke her chance was so | N |
- | |
At the threshold her silly foot did trip | H |
And ere she might recover it again | O |
The traitor cat had caught her by the hip | H |
- | |
And made her there against her will remain | C |
That had forgotten her poor surety and rest | D |
For seeming wealth wherein she thought to reign | C |
- | |
Alas my Poynz how men do seek the best | D |
And find the worst by error as they stray | P |
And no marvail when sight is so opprest | D |
- | |
And blind the guide anon out of the way | P |
Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life | Q |
O wretched minds there is no gold that may | P |
- | |
Grant that ye seek no war no peace no strife | Q |
No no although thy head were hooped with gold | D |
Sergeant with mace hawbert sword nor knife | Q |
- | |
Cannot repulse the care that follow should | D |
Each kind of life hath with him his disease | B |
Live in delight even as thy lust would | D |
- | |
And thou shalt find when lust doth most thee please | B |
It irketh straight and by itself doth fade | D |
A small thing it is that may thy mind appease | B |
- | |
None of ye all there is that is so mad | D |
To seek grapes upon brambles or breres | B |
Nor none I trow that hath his wit so bad | D |
- | |
To set his hay for conies over rivers | B |
Ne ye set not a drag net for an hare | K |
And yet the thing that most is your desire | R |
- | |
Ye do mis seek with more travail and care | K |
Make plain thine heart that it be not knotted | D |
With hope or dread and see thy will be bare | K |
- | |
From all affects whom vice hath ever spotted | D |
Thyself content with that is thee assigned | D |
And use it well that is to thee allotted | D |
- | |
Then seek no more out of thyself to find | D |
The thing that thou hast sought so long before | M |
For thou shalt feel it sitting in thy mind | D |
- | |
Mad if ye list to continue your sore | M |
Let present pass and gape on time to come | S |
And deep yourself in travail more and more | M |
- | |
Henceforth my Poynz this shall be all and some | S |
These wretched fools shall have nought else of me | T |
But to the great God and to his high doom | U |
- | |
None other pain pray I for them to be | T |
But when the rage doth lead them from the right | D |
That looking backward Virtue they may see | T |
- | |
Even as she is so goodly fair and bright | D |
And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms across | B |
Grant them good Lord as Thou mayst of Thy might | D |
To fret inward for losing such a loss | B |
Sir Thomas Wyatt
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Of The Mean And Sure Estate poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
Best Poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt