Epistle Of Condolence. From A Slave-lord, To A Cotton-lord Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH EEEE IEIE EJEJ| Alas my dear friend what a state of affairs | A |
| How unjustly we both are despoiled of our rights | B |
| Not a pound of black flesh shall I leave to my heirs | A |
| Nor must you any more work to death little whites | B |
| - | |
| Both forced to submit to that general controller | C |
| Of King Lords and cotton mills Public Opinion | D |
| No more shall you beat with a big billy roller | C |
| Nor I with the cart whip assert my dominion | D |
| - | |
| Whereas were we suffered to do as we please | E |
| With our Blacks and our Whites as of yore we were let | F |
| We might range them alternate like harpsichord keys | E |
| And between us thump out a good piebald duet | F |
| - | |
| But this fun is all over farewell to the zest | G |
| Which Slavery now lends to each teacup we sip | H |
| Which makes still the cruellest coffee the best | G |
| And that sugar the sweetest which smacks of the whip | H |
| - | |
| Farewell too the Factory's white pickaninnies | E |
| Small living machines which if flogged to their tasks | E |
| Mix so well with their namesakes the Billies and Jennies | E |
| That which have got souls in 'em nobody asks | E |
| - | |
| Little Maids of the Mill who themselves but ill fed | I |
| Are obliged 'mong their other benevolent cares | E |
| To keep feeding the scribblers and better 'tis said | I |
| Than old Blackwood or Fraser have ever fed theirs | E |
| - | |
| All this is now o'er and so dismal my loss is | E |
| So hard 'tis to part from the smack of the throng | J |
| That I mean from pure love for the old whipping process | E |
| To take to whipt syllabub all my life long | J |
Thomas Moore
(1)
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