Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Clapham Academy.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme

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I	A
	-
Ah me those old familiar bounds	B
That classic house those classic grounds	B
My pensive thought recalls	C
What tender urchins now confine	D
What little captives now repine	D
Within yon irksome walls	C
	-
	-
II	A
	-
Ay that's the very house I know	D
Its ugly windows ten a row	D
Its chimneys in the rear	E
And there's the iron rod so high	A
That drew the thunder from the sky	A
And turn'd our table beer	E
	-
	-
III	A
	-
There I was birch'd there I was bred	F
There like a little Adam fed	F
From Learning's woeful tree	G
The weary tasks I used to con	D
The hopeless leaves I wept upon	D
Most fruitless leaves to me	G
	-
	-
IV	A
	-
The summon'd class the awful bow	H
I wonder who is master now	H
And wholesome anguish sheds	I
How many ushers now employs	J
How many maids to see the boys	J
Have nothing in their heads	I
	-
	-
V	A
	-
And Mrs S Doth she abet	K
Like Pallas in the parlor yet	K
Some favor'd two or three	A
The little Crichtons of the hour	L
Her muffin medals that devour	L
And swill her prize bohea	M
	-
	-
VI	A
	-
Ay there's the playground there's the lime	N
Beneath whose shade in summer's prime	N
So wildly I have read	F
Who sits there now and skims the cream	O
Of young Romance and weaves a dream	O
Of Love and Cottage bread	F
	-
	-
VII	A
	-
Who struts the Randall of the walk	P
Who models tiny heads in chalk	Q
Who scoops the light canoe	D
What early genius buds apace	R
Where's Poynter Harris Bowers Chase	R
Hal Baylis blithe Carew	D
	-
	-
VIII	A
	-
Alack they're gone a thousand ways	S
And some are serving in the Greys	S
And some have perish'd young	T
Jack Harris weds his second wife	A
Hal Baylis drives the wane of life	A
And blithe Carew is hung	T
	-
	-
IX	S
	-
Grave Bowers teaches A B C	A
To savages at Owhyee	U
Poor Chase is with the worms	S
All all are gone the olden breed	V
New crops of mushroon boys succeed	V
And push us from our forms	S
	-
	-
X	S
	-
Lo where they scramble forth and shout	W
And leap and skip and mob about	W
At play where we have play'd	X
Some hop some run some fall some twine	D
Their crony arms some in the shine	D
And some are in the shade	X
	-
	-
XI	A
	-
Lo there what mix'd conditions run	D
The orphan lad the widow's son	D
And Fortune's favor'd care	Y
The wealthy born for whom she hath	Z
Mac Adamised the future path	Z
The Nabob's pamper'd heir	Y
	-
	-
XII	A
	-
Some brightly starr'd some evil born	D
For honor some and some for scorn	D
For fair or foul renown	D
Good bad indiff'rent none may lack	A2
Look here's a White and there's a Black	A2
And there's a Creole brown	D
	-
	-
XIII	A
	-
Some laugh and sing some mope and weep	B2
And wish their frugal sires would keep	B2
Their only sons at home	C2
Some tease their future tense and plan	D
The full grown doings of the man	D
And plant for years to come	D2
	-
	-
XIV	A
	-
A foolish wish There's one at hoop	E2
And four at fives and five who stoop	E2
The marble taw to speed	V
And one that curvets in and out	W
Reining his fellow Cob about	W
Would I were in his steed	V
	-
	-
XV	A
	-
Yet he would glady halt and drop	F2
That boyish harness off to swop	F2
With this world's heavy van	D
To toil to tug O little fool	G2
While thou canst be a horse at school	G2
To wish to be a man	D
	-
	-
XVI	A
	-
Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing	H2
To wear a crown to be a king	H2
And sleep on regal down	D
Alas thou know'st not kingly cares	A
For happier is thy head that wears	A
That hat without a crown	D
	-
	-
XVII	A
	-
And dost thou think that years acquire	L
New added joys Dost think thy sire	L
More happy than his son	D
That manhood's mirth Oh go thy ways	A
To Drury lane when plays	A
And see how forced our fun	D
	-
	-
XVIII	A
	-
Thy taws are brave thy tops are rare	Y
Our tops are spun with coils of care	Y
Our dumps are no delight	I2
The Elgin marbles are but tame	J2
And 'tis at best a sorry game	J2
To fly the Muse's kite	I2
	-
	-
XIX	A
	-
Our hearts are dough our heels are lead	F
Our topmost joys fall dull and dead	F
Like balls with no rebound	K2
And often with a faded eye	U
We look behind and send a sigh	U
Towards that merry ground	K2
	-
	-
XX	A
	-
Then be contented Thou hast got	L2
The most of heaven in thy young lot	L2
There's sky blue in thy cup	F2
Thou'lt find thy Manhood all too fast	M2
Soon come soon gone and Age at last	M2
A sorry breaking up	F2

Thomas Hood

Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Clapham Academy.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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