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 M2M2BK2K2BOh happy time Art's early days | A |
When o'er each deed with sweet self praise | A |
Narcissus like I hung | B |
When great Rembrandt but little seemed | C |
And such Old Masters all were deemed | C |
As nothing to the young | B |
- | |
Some scratchy strokes abrupt and few | D |
So easily and swift I drew | D |
Sufficed for my design | E |
My sketchy superficial hand | F |
Drew solids at a dash and spanned | F |
A surface with a line | E |
- | |
Not long my eye was thus content | G |
But grew more critical my bent | G |
Essayed a higher walk | H |
I copied leaden eyes in lead | I |
Rheumatic hands in white and red | I |
And gouty feet in chalk | J |
- | |
Anon my studious art for days | A |
Kept making faces happy phrase | A |
For faces such as mine | E |
Accomplished in the details then | K |
I left the minor parts of men | K |
And drew the form divine | E |
- | |
Old Gods and Heroes Trojan Greek | L |
Figures long after the antique | L |
Great Ajax justly feared | M |
Hectors of whom at night I dreamt | N |
And Nestor fringed enough to tempt | O |
Bird nesters to his beard | M |
- | |
A Bacchus leering on a bowl | P |
A Pallas that out stared her owl | Q |
A Vulcan very lame | R |
A Dian stuck about with stars | S |
With my right hand I murdered Mars | S |
One Williams did the same | R |
- | |
But tired of this dry work at last | T |
Crayon and chalk aside I cast | T |
And gave my brush a drink | U |
Dipping as when a painter dips | V |
In gloom of earthquake and eclipse | V |
That is in Indian ink | U |
- | |
Oh then what black Mont Blancs arose | W |
Crested with soot and not with snows | W |
What clouds of dingy hue | D |
In spite of what the bard has penned | X |
I fear the distance did not lend | X |
Enchantment to the view | D |
- | |
Not Radcliffe's brush did e'er design | E |
Black Forests half so black as mine | E |
Or lakes so like a pall | Y |
The Chinese cake dispersed a ray | Z |
Of darkness like the light of Day | Z |
And Martin over all | A2 |
- | |
Yet urchin pride sustained me still | B2 |
I gazed on all with right good will | B2 |
And spread the dingy tint | C2 |
No holy Luke helped me to paint | D2 |
The devil surely not a Saint | D2 |
Had any finger in't | E2 |
- | |
But colors came like morning light | F2 |
With gorgeous hues displacing night | F2 |
Or Spring's enlivened scene | G2 |
At once the sable shades withdrew | D |
My skies got very very blue | D |
My trees extremely green | G2 |
- | |
And washed by my cosmetic brush | H2 |
How Beauty's cheek began to blush | H2 |
With lock of auburn stain | I2 |
Not Goldsmith's Auburn nut brown hair | J2 |
That made her loveliest of the fair | J2 |
Not loveliest of the plain | I2 |
- | |
Her lips were of vermilion hue | D |
Love in her eyes and Prussian blue | D |
Set all my heart in flame | R |
A young Pygmalion I adored | K2 |
The maids I made but time was stored | K2 |
With evil and it came | R |
- | |
Perspective dawned and soon I saw | L2 |
My houses stand against its law | L2 |
And keeping all unkept | K2 |
My beauties were no longer things | M2 |
For love and fond imaginings | M2 |
But horrors to be wept | K2 |
- | |
Ah why did knowledge ope my eyes | M2 |
Why did I get more artist wise | M2 |
It only serves to hint | K2 |
What grave defects and wants are mine | E |
That I'm no Hilton in design | E |
In nature no De Wint | K2 |
- | |
Thrice happy time Art's early days | M2 |
When o'er each deed with sweet self praise | M2 |
Narcissus like I hung | B |
When great Rembrandt but little seemed | K2 |
And such Old Masters all were deemed | K2 |
As nothing to the young | B |
Thomas Hood
(1)
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