The Song Of The Shirt Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCEAEA FGFGHFHF FIFIJKLK MNOPEACA QRSRRLML FDTDUVWV FXFXKJJJ FJFJYZA2Z QJJJB2C2JC2 B2D2E2D2JJF2J BJDJEJEEJThe Song of the Shirt | A |
- | |
With fingers weary and worn | B |
With eyelids heavy and red | C |
A woman sat in unwomanly rags | D |
Plying her needle and thread | C |
Stitch stitch stitch | E |
In poverty hunger and dirt | A |
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch | E |
She sang the Song of the Shirt | A |
- | |
Work work work | F |
While the cock is crowing aloof | G |
And work work work | F |
Till the stars shine through the roof | G |
It's Oh to be a slave | H |
Along with the barbarous Turk | F |
Where woman has never a soul to save | H |
If this is Christian work | F |
- | |
Work work work | F |
Till the brain begins to swim | I |
Work work work | F |
Till the eyes are heavy and dim | I |
Seam and gusset and band | J |
Band and gusset and seam | K |
Till over the buttons I fall asleep | L |
And sew them on in a dream | K |
- | |
Oh Men with Sisters dear | M |
Oh Men with Mothers and Wives | N |
It is not linen you're wearing out | O |
But human creatures' lives | P |
Stitch stitch stitch | E |
In poverty hunger and dirt | A |
Sewing at once with a double thread | C |
A Shroud as well as a Shirt | A |
- | |
But why do I talk of Death | Q |
That Phantom of grisly bone | R |
I hardly fear its terrible shape | S |
It seems so like my own | R |
It seems so like my own | R |
Because of the fasts I keep | L |
Oh God that bread should be so dear | M |
And flesh and blood so cheap | L |
- | |
Work work work | F |
My Labour never flags | D |
And what are its wages A bed of straw | T |
A crust of bread and rags | D |
That shatter'd roof and this naked floor | U |
A table a broken chair | V |
And a wall so blank my shadow I thank | W |
For sometimes falling there | V |
- | |
Work work work | F |
From weary chime to chime | X |
Work work work | F |
As prisoners work for crime | X |
Band and gusset and seam | K |
Seam and gusset and band | J |
Till the heart is sick and the brain benumb'd | J |
As well as the weary hand | J |
- | |
Work work work | F |
In the dull December light | J |
And work work work | F |
When the weather is warm and bright | J |
While underneath the eaves | Y |
The brooding swallows cling | Z |
As if to show me their sunny backs | A2 |
And twit me with the spring | Z |
- | |
Oh but to breathe the breath | Q |
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet | J |
With the sky above my head | J |
And the grass beneath my feet | J |
For only one short hour | B2 |
To feel as I used to feel | C2 |
Before I knew the woes of want | J |
And the walk that costs a meal | C2 |
- | |
Oh but for one short hour | B2 |
A respite however brief | D2 |
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope | E2 |
But only time for Grief | D2 |
A little weeping would ease my heart | J |
But in their briny bed | J |
My tears must stop for every drop | F2 |
Hinders needle and thread | J |
- | |
With fingers weary and worn | B |
With eyelids heavy and red | J |
A woman sat in unwomanly rags | D |
Plying her needle and thread | J |
Stitch stitch stitch | E |
In poverty hunger and dirt | J |
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch | E |
Would that its tone could reach the Rich | E |
She sang this Song of the Shirt | J |
Thomas Hood
(1)
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