Ode To The Great Unknown.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCBDEEFGGFHIIHJJKK KLMMLNNL OJOJPPEQQRKOOKSSEETD DUUT UEUEVVHWWHHHXDDXXJXJ J W DVDVVDYYZA2EYA2 W B2B2C2C2DDEDDEED2EE W DDDDDDDDDDDRR W EEEEUUUUVV W EEEDHHEUUWWEE A2 A2WA2WWUUUWUWEEWYY A2 HE2E2HA2A2A2A2A2EEA2 A2 F2A2F2EEA2A2HG2H2HHA 2A2A2A2 A2 DF2DF2F2I2I2A2A2A2H2 A2H2A2F2A2F2A2DA2F2 A2 H2H2H2H2H2H2A2A2H2H2 THJ2HTH F2 OH2OH2H2UUHHF2A2F2H2 H2A2 F2 SWSWUUWA2A2H2H2A2HH F2 A2F2F2A2EA2EDDEEEH2H 2 F2 EK2EEEEH2A2H2A2A2EH2 E| O breathe not his name Moore | A |
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| I | - |
| - | |
| Thou Great Unknown | B |
| I do not mean Eternity nor Death | C |
| That vast incog | D |
| For I suppose thou hast a living breath | C |
| Howbeit we know not from whose lungs 'tis blown | B |
| Thou man of fog | D |
| Parent of many children child of none | E |
| Nobody's son | E |
| Nobody's daughter but a parent still | F |
| Still but an ostrich parent of a batch | G |
| Of orphan eggs left to the world to hatch | G |
| Superlative Nil | F |
| A vox and nothing more yet not Vauxhall | H |
| A head in papers yet without a curl | I |
| Not the Invisible Girl | I |
| No hand but a handwriting on a wall | H |
| A popular nonentity | J |
| Still call'd the same without identity | J |
| A lark heard out of sight | K |
| A nothing shin'd upon invisibly bright | K |
| Dark with excess of light | K |
| Constable's literary John a nokes | L |
| The real Scottish wizard and not which | M |
| Nobody in a niche | M |
| Every one's hoax | L |
| Maybe Sir Walter Scott | N |
| Perhaps not | N |
| Why dost thou so conceal and puzzle curious folks | L |
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| - | |
| II | - |
| - | |
| Thou whom the second sighted never saw | O |
| The Master Fiction of fictitious history | J |
| Chief Nong tong paw | O |
| No mister in the world and yet all mystery | J |
| The tricksy spirit of a Scotch Cock Lane | P |
| A novel Junius puzzling the world's brain | P |
| A man of Magic yet no talisman | E |
| A man of clair obscure not he o' the moon | Q |
| A star at noon | Q |
| A non descriptus in a caravan | R |
| A private of no corps a northern light | K |
| In a dark lantern Bogie in a crape | O |
| A figure but no shape | O |
| A vizor and no knight | K |
| The real abstract hero of the age | S |
| The staple Stranger of the stage | S |
| A Some One made in every man's presumption | E |
| Frankenstein's monster but instinct with gumption | E |
| Another strange state captive in the north | T |
| Constable guarded in an iron mask | D |
| Still let me ask | D |
| Hast thou no silver platter | U |
| No door plate or no card or some such matter | U |
| To scrawl a name upon and then cast forth | T |
| - | |
| - | |
| III | - |
| - | |
| Thou Scottish Barmecide feeding the hunger | U |
| Of Curiosity with airy gammon | E |
| Thou mystery monger | U |
| Dealing it out like middle cut of salmon | E |
| That people buy and can't make head or tail of it | V |
| Howbeit that puzzle never hurts the sale of it | V |
| Thou chief of authors mystic and abstractical | H |
| That lay their proper bodies on the shelf | W |
| Keeping thyself so truly to thyself | W |
| Thou Zimmerman made practical | H |
| Thou secret fountain of a Scottish style | H |
| That like the Nile | H |
| Hideth its source wherever it is bred | X |
| But still keeps disemboguing | D |
| Not disembroguing | D |
| Thro' such broad sandy mouths without a head | X |
| Thou disembodied author not yet dead | X |
| The whole world's literary Absentee | J |
| Ah wherefore hast thou fled | X |
| Thou learned Nemo wise to a degree | J |
| Anonymous LL D | J |
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| - | |
| IV | W |
| - | |
| Thou nameless captain of the nameless gang | D |
| That do and inquests cannot say who did it | V |
| Wert thou at Mrs Donatty's death pang | D |
| Hast thou made gravy of Weare's watch or hid it | V |
| Hast thou a Blue Beard chamber Heaven forbid it | V |
| I should be very loth to see thee hang | D |
| I hope thou hast an alibi well plann'd | Y |
| An innocent altho' an ink black hand | Y |
| Tho' that hast newly turn'd thy private bolt on | Z |
| The curiosity of all invaders | A2 |
| I hope thou art merely closeted with Colton | E |
| Who knows a little of the Holy Land | Y |
| Writing thy next new novel The Crusaders | A2 |
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| - | |
| V | W |
| - | |
| Perhaps thou wert even born | B2 |
| To be Unknown Perhaps hung some foggy morn | B2 |
| At Captain Coram's charitable wicket | C2 |
| Pinn'd to a ticket | C2 |
| That Fate had made illegible foreseeing | D |
| The future great unmentionable being | D |
| Perhaps thou hast ridden | E |
| A scholar poor on St Augustine's Back | D |
| Like Chatterton and found a dusty pack | D |
| Of Rowley novels in an old chest hidden | E |
| A little hoard of clever simulation | E |
| That took the town and Constable has bidden | D2 |
| Some hundred pounds for a continuation | E |
| To keep and clothe thee in genteel starvation | E |
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| VI | W |
| - | |
| I like thy Waverley first of thy breeding | D |
| I like its modest sixty years ago | D |
| As if it was not meant for ages' reading | D |
| I don't like Ivanhoe | D |
| Tho' Dymoke does it makes him think of clattering | D |
| In iron overalls before the king | D |
| Secure from battering to ladies flattering | D |
| Tuning his challenge to the gauntlet's ring | D |
| Oh better far than all that anvil clang | D |
| It was to hear thee touch the famous string | D |
| Of Robin Hood's tough bow and make it twang | D |
| Rousing him up all verdant with his clan | R |
| Like Sagittarian Pan | R |
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| VII | W |
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| I like Guy Mannering but not that sham son | E |
| Of Brown I like that literary Sampson | E |
| Nine tenths a Dyer with a smack of Porson | E |
| I like Dirk Hatteraick that rough sea Orson | E |
| That slew the Gauger | U |
| And Dandie Dinmont like old Ursa Major | U |
| And Merrilies young Bertram's old defender | U |
| That Scottish Witch of Endor | U |
| That doom'd thy fame She was the Witch I take it | V |
| To tell a great man's fortune or to make it | V |
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| VIII | W |
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| I like thy Antiquary With his fit on | E |
| He makes me think of Mr Britton | E |
| I like thy Antiquary With Ins fit on | E |
| It makes me think | D |
| Who has or had within his garden wall | H |
| A miniature Stone Henge so very small | H |
| That sparrows find it difficult to sit on | E |
| And Dousterwivel like Poyais' M'Gregor | U |
| And Edie Ochiltree that old Blue Beggar | U |
| Painted so cleverly | W |
| I think thou surely knowest Mrs Beverly | W |
| I like thy Barber him that fir'd the Beacon | E |
| But that's a tender subject now to speak on | E |
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| IX | A2 |
| - | |
| I like long arm'd Rob Roy His very charms | A2 |
| Fashion'd him for renown In sad sincerity | W |
| The man that robs or writes must have long arms | A2 |
| If he's to hand his deeds down to posterity | W |
| Witness Miss Biffin's posthumous prosperity | W |
| Her poor brown crumpled mummy nothing more | U |
| Bearing the name she bore | U |
| A thing Time's tooth is tempted to destroy | U |
| But Roys can never die why else in verity | W |
| Is Paris echoing with Vive le Roy | U |
| Aye Rob shall live again and deathless Di | W |
| Vernon of course shall often live again | E |
| Whilst there's a stone in Newgate or a chain | E |
| Who can pass by | W |
| Nor feel the Thief's in prison and at hand | Y |
| There be Old Bailey Jarvies on the stand | Y |
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| X | A2 |
| - | |
| I like thy Landlord's Tales I like that Idol | H |
| Of love and Lammermoor the blue eyed maid | E2 |
| That led to church the mounted cavalcade | E2 |
| And then pull'd up with such a bloody bridal | H |
| Throwing equestrian Hymen on his haunches | A2 |
| I like the family not silver branches | A2 |
| That hold the tapers | A2 |
| To light the serious legend of Montrose | A2 |
| I like M'Aulay's second sighted vapors | A2 |
| As if he could not walk or talk alone | E |
| Without the devil or the Great Unknown | E |
| Dalgetty is the dearest of Ducrows | A2 |
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| XI | A2 |
| - | |
| I like St Leonard's Lily drench'd with dew | F2 |
| I like thy Vision of the Covenanters | A2 |
| That bloody minded Grahame shot and slew | F2 |
| I like the battle lost and won | E |
| The hurly burlys bravely done | E |
| The warlike gallop and the warlike canters | A2 |
| I like that girded chieftain of the ranters | A2 |
| Ready to preach down heathens or to grapple | H |
| With one eye on his sword | G2 |
| And one upon the Word | H2 |
| How he would cram the Caledonian Chapel | H |
| I like stern Claverhouse though he cloth dapple | H |
| His raven steed with blood of many a corse | A2 |
| I like dear Mrs Headrigg that unravels | A2 |
| Her texts of scripture on a trotting horse | A2 |
| She is so like Rae Wilson when he travels | A2 |
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| XII | A2 |
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| I like thy Kenilworth but I'm not going | D |
| To take a Retrospective Re Review | F2 |
| Of all thy dainty novels merely showing | D |
| The old familiar faces of a few | F2 |
| The question to renew | F2 |
| How thou canst leave such deeds without a name | I2 |
| Forego the unclaim'd Dividends of fame | I2 |
| Forego the smiles of literary houris | A2 |
| Mid Lothian's trump and Fife's shrill note of praise | A2 |
| And all the Carse of Gowrie's | A2 |
| When thou might'st have thy statue in Cromarty | H2 |
| Or see thy image on Italian trays | A2 |
| Betwixt Queen Caroline and Buonapart | H2 |
| Be painted by the Titian of R A's | A2 |
| Or vie in signboards with the Royal Guelph | F2 |
| P'rhaps have thy bust set cheek by jowl with Homer's | A2 |
| P'rhaps send out plaster proxies of thyself | F2 |
| To other Englands with Australian roamers | A2 |
| Mayhap in Literary Owhyhee | D |
| Displace the native wooden gods or be | A2 |
| The china Lar of a Canadian shelf | F2 |
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| XIII | A2 |
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| It is not modesty that bids thee hide | H2 |
| She never wastes her blushes out of sight | H2 |
| It is not to invite | H2 |
| The world's decision for thy fame is tried | H2 |
| And thy fair deeds are scatter'd far and wide | H2 |
| Even royal heads are with thy readers reckon'd | H2 |
| From men in trencher caps to trencher scholars | A2 |
| In crimson collars | A2 |
| And learned serjeants in the Forty Second | H2 |
| Whither by land or sea art thou not beckon'd | H2 |
| Mayhap exported from the Frith of Forth | T |
| Defying distance and its dim control | H |
| Perhaps read about Stromness and reckon'd worth | J2 |
| A brace of Miltons for capacious soul | H |
| Perhaps studied in the whalers further north | T |
| And set above ten Shakspeares near the pole | H |
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| XIV | F2 |
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| Oh when thou writest by Aladdin's lamp | O |
| With such a giant genius at command | H2 |
| Forever at thy stamp | O |
| To fill thy treasury from Fairy Land | H2 |
| When haply thou might'st ask the pearly hand | H2 |
| Of some great British Vizier's eldest daughter | U |
| Tho' princes sought her | U |
| And lead her in procession hymeneal | H |
| Oh why dost thou remain a Beau Ideal | H |
| Why stay a ghost on the Lethean Wharf | F2 |
| Envelop'd in Scotch mist and gloomy fogs | A2 |
| Why but because thou art some puny Dwarf | F2 |
| Some hopeless Imp like Biquet with the Tuft | H2 |
| Fearing for all thy wit to be rebuff'd | H2 |
| Or bullied by our great reviewing Gogs | A2 |
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| XV | F2 |
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| What in this masquing age | S |
| Maketh Unknowns so many and so shy | W |
| What but the critic's page | S |
| One hath a cast he hides from the world's eye | W |
| Another hath a wen he won't show where | U |
| A third has sandy hair | U |
| A hunch upon his back or legs awry | W |
| Things for a vile reviewer to espy | A2 |
| Another hath a mangel wurzel nose | A2 |
| Finally this is dimpled | H2 |
| Like a pale crumpet face or that is pimpled | H2 |
| Things for a monthly critic to expose | A2 |
| Nay what is thy own case that being small | H |
| Thou choosest to be nobody at all | H |
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| XVI | F2 |
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| Well thou art prudent with such puny bones | A2 |
| E'en like Elshender the mysterious elf | F2 |
| That shadowy revelation of thyself | F2 |
| To build thee a small hut of haunted stones | A2 |
| For certainly the first pernicious man | E |
| That ever saw thee would quickly draw thee | A2 |
| In some vile literary caravan | E |
| Shown for a shilling | D |
| Would be thy killing | D |
| Think of Crachami's miserable span | E |
| No tinier frame the tiny spark could dwell in | E |
| Than there it fell in | E |
| But when she felt herself a show she tried | H2 |
| To shrink from the world's eye poor dwarf and died | H2 |
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| XVII | F2 |
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| O since it was thy fortune to be born | E |
| A dwarf on some Scotch Inch and then to flinch | K2 |
| From all the Gog like jostle of great men | E |
| Still with thy small crow pen | E |
| Amuse and charm thy lonely hours forlorn | E |
| Still Scottish story daintily adorn | E |
| Be still a shade and when this age is fled | H2 |
| When we poor sons and daughters of reality | A2 |
| Are in our graves forgotten and quite dead | H2 |
| And Time destroys our mottoes of morality | A2 |
| The lithographic hand of Old Mortality | A2 |
| Shall still restore thy emblem on the stone | E |
| A featureless death's head | H2 |
| And rob Oblivion ev'n of the Unknown | E |
Thomas Hood
(1)
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About Ode To The Great Unknown.[1]
Ode To The Great Unknown.[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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