Satire Ii:the Country Mouse And The Town Mouse Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDBDEDEFEFEFEGEGH GHEHEGEGIGJKIKEKELEE GEGLGLBLBBBEMBMNMNON OPODEDEQEQRQREREBSBE BEBEBMSTETEEEEMEMUMU VEVEVEBEB

MY mother's maids when they did sew and spinA
They sang sometime a song of the field mouseB
That for because her livelood was but thin livelihoodC
Would needs go seek her townish sister's houseB
She thought herself endured to much painD
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souseB
That when the furrows swimmed with the rainD
She must lie cold and wet in sorry plightE
And worse than that bare meat there did remainD
To comfort her when she her house had dightE
Sometime a barleycorn sometime a beanF
For which she labored hard both day and nightE
In harvest time whilst she might go and gleanF
And when her store was 'stroyed with the floodE
Then well away for she undone was cleanF
Then was she fain to take instead of foodE
Sleep if she might her hunger to beguileG
My sister qoth she hath a living goodE
And hence from me she dwelleth not a mileG
In cold and storm she lieth warm and dryH
In bed of down and dirt doth not defileG
Her tender foot she laboreth not as IH
Richly she feedeth and at the rich man's costE
And for her meat she needs not crave nor cryH
By sea by land of the delicates the mostE
Her cater seeks and spareth for no perilG
She feedeth on boiled baken meat and roastE
And hath thereof neither charge nor travailG
And when she list the liquor of the grapeI
Doth goad her heart till that her belly swellG
And at this journey she maketh but a jape jokeJ
So forth she goeth trusting of all this wealthK
With her sister her part so for to shapeI
That if she might keep herself in healthK
To live a lady while her life doth lastE
And to the door now is she come by stealthK
And with her foot anon she scrapeth full fastE
The other for fear durst not well scarce appearL
Of every noise so was the wretch aghastE
Peace quoth the town mouse why speakest thou so loudE
And by the hand she took her fair and wellG
Welcome quoth she my sister by the roodE
She feasted her that joy is was to tellG
The fare they had they drank the wine so clearL
And as to purpose now and then it fellG
She cheered her with How sister what cheerL
Amids this joy there fell a sorry chanceB
That wellaway the stranger bought full dearL
The fare she had For as she looks askanceB
Under a stool she spied two steaming eyesB
In a round head with sharp ears In FranceB
was never mouse so feared for though the unwise afraidE
Had not yseen such a beast beforeM
Yet had nature taught her after her guiseB
To know her foe and dread him evermoreM
The town mouse fled she knew whither to goN
The other had no shift but wondrous soreM
Feared of her life at home she wished her thoughN
And to the door alas as she did skipO
Th' heaven it would lo and eke her chance was soN
At the threshold her silly foot did tripO
And ere she might recover it againP
The traitor cat had caught her by the hipO
And made her there against her will remainD
That had forgotten her poor surety and restE
For seeming wealth wherein she thought to reignD
Alas my Poynz how men do seek the best a friend of WyattE
And find the worst by error as they strayQ
And no marvel when sight is so opprestE
And blind the guide Anon out of the wayQ
Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet lifeR
O wretched minds there is no gold that mayQ
Grant that ye seek no war no peace no strifeR
No no although thy head was hoopt with gold crownedE
Sergeant with mace haubert sword nor knifeR
Cannot repulse the care that follow shouldE
Each kind of life hath with him his diseaseB
Live in delight even as thy lust would as you would desireS
And thou shalt find when lust doth most thee pleaseB
It irketh strait and by itself doth fadeE
A small thing it is that may thy mind appeaseB
None of ye all there is that is so madE
To seek grapes upon brambles or breers briarsB
Not none I trow that hath his wit so badE
To set his hay for conies over rivers snares for rabbitsB
Ne ye set not a drag net for an hare norM
And yet the thing that most is your desireS
Ye do misseek with more travail and careT
Make plain thine heart that it be not nottedE
With hope or dread and see thy will be bareT
From all effects whom vice hath ever spottedE
Thyself content with that is thee assignedE
And use it well that is to thee allottedE
Then seek no more out of thyself to findE
The thing that thou hast sought so long beforeM
For thou shalt find it sitting in thy mindE
Mad if ye list to continue your soreM
Let present pass and gape on time to comeU
And deep yourself in travail more and moreM
Henceforth my Poynz this shall be all and someU
These wretched fools shall have nought else of meV
But to the great God and to His high doom judgmentE
None other pain pray I for them to beV
But when the rage doth lead them from the rightE
That looking backward Virtue they may seeV
Even as She is so goodly fair and brightE
And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms acrossB
Grant them good Lord as Thou mayst of Thy mightE
To fret inward for losing such a lossB

Sir Thomas Wyatt



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