Ode To Captain Paery[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AB CCDEED FFGHHG IIJKKJ L MMNAAN A OOPQQP L RRSTTS L UUVWWV L RRHOOH O XXYZZY O A2A2B2C2C2B2 O D2D2YE2E2Y O F2F2G2OOO O H2H2I2EEI2 L OOLJ2J2L L OOOK2K2O L OOPOOL2 L JJM2LLM2 L N2N2OO2O2O O OOOYYO O D2D2G2YYG2 O OOP2YYP2 O Q2Q2R2JJR2 O S2S2OLLO L OOEGGE L H2H2OBBO L HHT2OOT2 L EEOO2O2O L JJM2OOM2 O RN2NYYN O R2R2JU2U2J O XXOV2V2O O W2W2T2X2X2T2| By the North Pole I do challenge thee | A |
| Love's Labour's Lost | B |
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| I | - |
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| Parry my man has thy brave leg | C |
| Yet struck its foot against the peg | C |
| On which the world is spun | D |
| Or hast thou found No Thoroughfare | E |
| Writ by the hand of Nature there | E |
| Where man has never run | D |
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| II | - |
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| Hast thou yet traced the Great Unknown | F |
| Of channels in the Frozen Zone | F |
| Or held at Icy Bay | G |
| Hast thou still miss'd the proper track | H |
| For homeward Indian men that lack | H |
| A bracing by the way | G |
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| III | - |
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| Still hast thou wasted toil and trouble | I |
| On nothing but the North Sea Bubble | I |
| Of geographic scholar | J |
| Or found new ways for ships to shape | K |
| Instead of winding round the Cape | K |
| A short cut thro' the collar | J |
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| IV | L |
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| Hast found the way that sighs were sent to | M |
| The Pole tho' God knows whom they went to | M |
| That track reveal'd to Pope | N |
| Or if the Arctic waters sally | A |
| Or terminate in some blind alley | A |
| A chilly path to grope | N |
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| V | A |
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| Alas tho' Ross in love with snows | O |
| Has painted them couleur de rose | O |
| It is a dismal doom | P |
| As Clauclio saith to Winter thrice | Q |
| In regions of thick ribbed ice | Q |
| All bright and yet all gloom | P |
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| VI | L |
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| 'Tis well for Gheber souls that sit | R |
| Before the fire and worship it | R |
| With pecks of Wallsend coals | S |
| With feet upon the fender's front | T |
| Roasting their corns like Mr Hunt | T |
| To speculate on poles | S |
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| VII | L |
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| 'Tis easy for our Naval Board | U |
| 'Tis easy for our Civic Lord | U |
| Of London and of ease | V |
| That lies in ninety feet of down | W |
| With fur on his nocturnal gown | W |
| To talk of Frozen Seas | V |
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| VIII | L |
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| 'Tis fine for Monsieur Ude to sit | R |
| And prate about the mundane spit | R |
| And babble of Cook's track | H |
| He'd roast the leather off his toes | O |
| Ere he would trudge thro' polar snows | O |
| To plant a British Jack | H |
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| IX | O |
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| Oh not the proud licentious great | X |
| That travel on a carpet skate | X |
| Can value toils like thine | Y |
| What 'tis to take a Hecla range | Z |
| Through ice unknown to Mrs Grange | Z |
| And alpine lumps of brine | Y |
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| X | O |
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| But we that mount the Hill o' Rhyme | A2 |
| Can tell how hard it is to climb | A2 |
| The lofty slippery steep | B2 |
| Ah there are more Snow Hills than that | C2 |
| Which doth black Newgate like a hat | C2 |
| Upon its forehead keep | B2 |
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| XI | O |
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| Perchance thou'rt now while I am writing | D2 |
| Feeling a bear's wet grinder biting | D2 |
| About thy frozen spine | Y |
| Or thou thyself art eating whale | E2 |
| Oily and underdone and stale | E2 |
| That haply cross'd thy line | Y |
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| XII | O |
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| But I'll not dream such dreams of ill | F2 |
| Rather will I believe thee still | F2 |
| Safe cellar'd in the snow | G2 |
| Reciting many a gallant story | O |
| Of British kings and British glory | O |
| To crony Esquimaux | O |
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| XIII | O |
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| Cheering that dismal game where Night | H2 |
| Makes one slow move from black to white | H2 |
| Thro' all the tedious year | I2 |
| Or smitten by some fond frost fair | E |
| That comb'd out crystals from her hair | E |
| Wooing a seal skin dear | I2 |
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| XIV | L |
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| So much a long communion tends | O |
| As Byron says to make us friends | O |
| With what we daily view | L |
| God knows the daintiest taste may come | J2 |
| To love a nose that's like a plum | J2 |
| In marble cold and blue | L |
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| XV | L |
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| To dote on hair an oily fleece | O |
| As tho' it hung from Helen o' Greece | O |
| They say that love prevails | O |
| Ev'n in the veriest polar land | K2 |
| And surely she may steal thy hand | K2 |
| That used to steal thy nails | O |
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| XVI | L |
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| But ah ere thou art fixed to marry | O |
| And take a polar Mrs Parry | O |
| Think of a six months' gloom | P |
| Think of the wintry waste and hers | O |
| Each furnish'd with a dozen furs | O |
| Think of thine icy dome | L2 |
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| XVII | L |
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| Think of the children born to blubber | J |
| Ah me hast thou an Indian rubber | J |
| Inside to hold a meal | M2 |
| For months about a stone and half | L |
| Of whale and part of a sea calf | L |
| A fillet of salt veal | M2 |
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| XVIII | L |
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| Some walrus ham no trifle but | N2 |
| A decent steak a solid cut | N2 |
| Of seal no wafer slice | O |
| A reindeer's tongue and drink beside | O2 |
| Gallons of sperm not rectified | O2 |
| And pails of water ice | O |
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| XIX | O |
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| Oh canst thou fast and then feast thus | O |
| Still come away and teach to us | O |
| Those blessed alternations | O |
| To day to run our dinners fine | Y |
| To feed on air and then to dine | Y |
| With Civic Corporations | O |
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| XX | O |
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| To save th' Old Bailey daily shilling | D2 |
| And then to take a half year's filling | D2 |
| In P N 's pious Row | G2 |
| When ask'd to Hock and haunch o' ven'son | Y |
| Thro' something we have worn our pens on | Y |
| For Longman and his Co | G2 |
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| XXI | O |
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| O come and tell us what the Pole is | O |
| Whether it singular and sole is | O |
| Or straight or crooked bent | P2 |
| If very thick or very thin | Y |
| Made of what wood and if akin | Y |
| To those there be in Kent | P2 |
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| XXII | O |
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| There's Combe there's Spurzheim and there's Gall | Q2 |
| Have talk'd of poles yet after all | Q2 |
| What has the public learn'd | R2 |
| And Hunt's account must still defer | J |
| He sought the poll at Westminster | J |
| And is not yet return'd | R2 |
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| XXIII | O |
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| Alvanly asks if whist dear soul | S2 |
| Is play'd in snow towns near the Pole | S2 |
| And how the fur man deals | O |
| And Eldon doubts if it be true | L |
| That icy Chancellors really do | L |
| Exist upon the seals | O |
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| XXIV | L |
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| Barrow by well fed office grates | O |
| Talks of his own bechristen'd Straits | O |
| And longs that he were there | E |
| And Croker in his cabriolet | G |
| Sighs o'er his brown horse at his Bay | G |
| And pants to cross the mer | E |
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| XXV | L |
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| O come away and set us right | H2 |
| And haply throw a northern light | H2 |
| On questions such as these | O |
| Whether when this drown'd world was lost | B |
| The surflux waves were lock'd in frost | B |
| And turned to Icy Seas | O |
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| XXVI | L |
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| Is Ursa Major white or black | H |
| Or do the Polar tribes attack | H |
| Their neighbors and what for | T2 |
| Whether they ever play at cuffs | O |
| And then if they take off their muffs | O |
| In pugilistic war | T2 |
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| XXVII | L |
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| Tells us is Winter champion there | E |
| As in our milder fighting air | E |
| Say what are Chilly loans | O |
| What cures they have for rheums beside | O2 |
| And if their hearts get ossified | O2 |
| From eating bread of bones | O |
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| XXVIII | L |
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| Whether they are such dwarfs the quicker | J |
| To circulate the vital liquor | J |
| And then from head to heel | M2 |
| How short the Methodists must choose | O |
| Their dumpy envoys not to lose | O |
| Their toes in spite of zeal | M2 |
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| XXIX | O |
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| Whether 'twill soften or sublime it | R |
| To preach of Hell in such a climate | N2 |
| Whether may Wesley hope | N |
| To win their souls or that old function | Y |
| Of seals with the extreme of unction | Y |
| Bespeaks them for the Pope | N |
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| XXX | O |
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| Whether the lamps will e'er be learn'd | R2 |
| Where six months' midnight oil is burn'd | R2 |
| Or Letters must confer | J |
| With people that have never conn'd | U2 |
| An A B C but live beyond | U2 |
| The Sound of Lancaster | J |
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| XXXI | O |
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| O come away at any rate | X |
| Well hast thou earn'd a downier state | X |
| With all thy hardy peers | O |
| Good lack thou must be glad to smell dock | V2 |
| And rub thy feet with opodeldock | V2 |
| After such frosty years | O |
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| XXXII | O |
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| Mayhap some gentle dame at last | W2 |
| Smit by the perils thou hast pass'd | W2 |
| However coy before | T2 |
| Shall bid thee now set up thy rest | X2 |
| In that Brest Harbor woman's breast | X2 |
| And tempt the Fates no more | T2 |
Thomas Hood
(1)
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About Ode To Captain Paery[1]
Ode To Captain Paery[1] is a poem by Thomas Hood. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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