The Progress Of Art. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCCB DDEFFE GGHIIJ AAEKKE LLMNOM PQRSSR TTUVVU WWDXXD EEYZZA2 B2B2C2D2D2E2 F2F2G2DDG2 H2H2I2J2J2I2 DDRK2K2R L2L2K2M2M2K2 M2M2K2EEK2 M2M2BK2K2B

Oh happy time Art's early daysA
When o'er each deed with sweet self praiseA
Narcissus like I hungB
When great Rembrandt but little seemedC
And such Old Masters all were deemedC
As nothing to the youngB
-
Some scratchy strokes abrupt and fewD
So easily and swift I drewD
Sufficed for my designE
My sketchy superficial handF
Drew solids at a dash and spannedF
A surface with a lineE
-
Not long my eye was thus contentG
But grew more critical my bentG
Essayed a higher walkH
I copied leaden eyes in leadI
Rheumatic hands in white and redI
And gouty feet in chalkJ
-
Anon my studious art for daysA
Kept making faces happy phraseA
For faces such as mineE
Accomplished in the details thenK
I left the minor parts of menK
And drew the form divineE
-
Old Gods and Heroes Trojan GreekL
Figures long after the antiqueL
Great Ajax justly fearedM
Hectors of whom at night I dreamtN
And Nestor fringed enough to temptO
Bird nesters to his beardM
-
A Bacchus leering on a bowlP
A Pallas that out stared her owlQ
A Vulcan very lameR
A Dian stuck about with starsS
With my right hand I murdered MarsS
One Williams did the sameR
-
But tired of this dry work at lastT
Crayon and chalk aside I castT
And gave my brush a drinkU
Dipping as when a painter dipsV
In gloom of earthquake and eclipseV
That is in Indian inkU
-
Oh then what black Mont Blancs aroseW
Crested with soot and not with snowsW
What clouds of dingy hueD
In spite of what the bard has pennedX
I fear the distance did not lendX
Enchantment to the viewD
-
Not Radcliffe's brush did e'er designE
Black Forests half so black as mineE
Or lakes so like a pallY
The Chinese cake dispersed a rayZ
Of darkness like the light of DayZ
And Martin over allA2
-
Yet urchin pride sustained me stillB2
I gazed on all with right good willB2
And spread the dingy tintC2
No holy Luke helped me to paintD2
The devil surely not a SaintD2
Had any finger in'tE2
-
But colors came like morning lightF2
With gorgeous hues displacing nightF2
Or Spring's enlivened sceneG2
At once the sable shades withdrewD
My skies got very very blueD
My trees extremely greenG2
-
And washed by my cosmetic brushH2
How Beauty's cheek began to blushH2
With lock of auburn stainI2
Not Goldsmith's Auburn nut brown hairJ2
That made her loveliest of the fairJ2
Not loveliest of the plainI2
-
Her lips were of vermilion hueD
Love in her eyes and Prussian blueD
Set all my heart in flameR
A young Pygmalion I adoredK2
The maids I made but time was storedK2
With evil and it cameR
-
Perspective dawned and soon I sawL2
My houses stand against its lawL2
And keeping all unkeptK2
My beauties were no longer thingsM2
For love and fond imaginingsM2
But horrors to be weptK2
-
Ah why did knowledge ope my eyesM2
Why did I get more artist wiseM2
It only serves to hintK2
What grave defects and wants are mineE
That I'm no Hilton in designE
In nature no De WintK2
-
Thrice happy time Art's early daysM2
When o'er each deed with sweet self praiseM2
Narcissus like I hungB
When great Rembrandt but little seemedK2
And such Old Masters all were deemedK2
As nothing to the youngB

Thomas Hood



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