Worth Forest Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK LLKKMMNNAA KKKBKKOOPPKKQROOSSTJ UUBBEEKKAAQVWWKKXXYY KKIIOOYYKKYYBBOOYYZA 2WWYYKKYY BBYYYYK B2B2KKYYXXC2D2KKBBE2 E2OOF2ZG2G2YYH2KOOI2 I2KK BBJ2J2AAOOK2PYYOOI2I 2WWOOL2M2OOKKY YYOOBBE2E2YYYYN2Come Prudence you have done enough to day | A |
The worst is over and some hours of play | A |
We both have earned even more than rest from toil | B |
Our minds need laughter as a spent lamp oil | B |
And after their long fast a recompense | C |
How sweet the evening is with its fresh scents | D |
Of briar and fern distilled by the warm wind | E |
How green a robe the rain has left behind | E |
How the birds laugh What say you to a walk | F |
Over the hill and our long promised talk | F |
About the rights and wrongs of infancy | G |
Our patients are asleep dear angels she | G |
Holding the boy in her ecstatic arms | H |
As mothers do and free from past alarms | H |
The child grown calm If we an hour or two | I |
Venture to leave them 'tis but our hope's due | I |
My tongue is all agog to try its speed | J |
To a new listener like a long stalled steed | J |
Loosed in a meadow and the Forest lies | K |
At hand the theme of its best flatteries | K |
See Prudence here your hat where it was thrown | L |
The night you found me in the house alone | L |
With my worst fear and these two helpless things | K |
Please God that worst has folded its black wings | K |
And we may let our thoughts on pleasure run | M |
Some moments in the light of this good sun | M |
They sleep in Heaven's guard Our watch to night | N |
Will be the braver for a transient sight | N |
The only one perhaps more fair than they | A |
Of Nature dressed for her June holiday | A |
- | |
This is the watershed between the Thames | K |
And the South coast On either hand the streams | K |
Run to the great Thames valley and the sea | K |
The Downs which should oppose them servilely | B |
Giving them passage Who would think these Downs | K |
Which look like mountains when the sea mist crowns | K |
Their tops in autumn were so poor a chain | O |
Yet they divide no pathways for the rain | O |
Nor store up waters in this pluvious age | P |
More than the pasteboard barriers of a stage | P |
The crest lies here From us the Medway flows | K |
To drain the Weald of Kent and hence the Ouse | K |
Starts for the Channel at Newhaven Both | Q |
These streams run eastward bearing North and South | R |
But to the West the Adur and the Arun | O |
Rising together like twin rills of Sharon | O |
Go forth diversely this through Shoreham gap | S |
And that by Arundel to Ocean's lap | S |
All are our rivers by our Forest bred | T |
And one besides which with more reverend heed | J |
We need to speak for her desert is great | U |
Beyond the actual wealth of her estate | U |
For Spenser sang of her the River Mole | B |
And Milton knew her name though he poor soul | B |
Had never seen her as I think being blind | E |
And so miscalled her sullen Others find | E |
Her special merit to consist in this | K |
A maiden coyness and her shy device | K |
Of mole like burrowing And in truth her way | A |
Is hollowed out and hidden from the day | A |
Under deep banks and the dark overgrowth | Q |
Of knotted alder roots and stumps uncouth | V |
From source to mouth and once at Mickleham | W |
She fairly digs her grave in deed and name | W |
And disappears There is an early trace | K |
Of this propensity to devious ways | K |
Shown by the little tributary brook | X |
Which bounds our fields for lately it forsook | X |
Its natural course to burrow out a road | Y |
Under an ash tree in its neighbourhood | Y |
But whether this a special virtue is | K |
Or like some virtues but a special vice | K |
We need not argue This at least is true | I |
That in the Mole are trout and many too | I |
As I have often proved with rod and line | O |
From boyhood up blest days of pins and twine | O |
How many an afternoon have our hushed feet | Y |
Crept through the alders where the waters meet | Y |
Mary's and mine and our eyes viewed the pools | K |
Where the trout lay poor unsuspecting fools | K |
And our hands framed their doom while overhead | Y |
His orchestra of birds the backbird led | Y |
In those lost days no angler of them all | B |
Could boast our cunning with the bait let fall | B |
Close to their snouts from some deceiving coigne | O |
Or mark more notches when we stopped to join | O |
Our fishes head to tail and lay them out | Y |
Upon the grass and count our yards of trout | Y |
'Twas best in June with the brook growing clear | Z |
After a shower as now In dark weather | A2 |
It was less certain angling for the stream | W |
Was truly sullen'' then so deep and dim | W |
'Tis thus in mountain lakes as some relate | Y |
Where the fish need the sun to see the bait | Y |
The fly takes nothing in these tangled brooks | K |
But grief to fishermen and loss of hooks | K |
And all our angling was of godless sort | Y |
With living worm and yet we loved the sport | Y |
- | |
But wait This path will lead us to the gill | B |
Where you shall see the Mole in her first rill | B |
Ere yet she leaves the Forest and her bed | Y |
Is still of iron stone which stains her red | Y |
Yet keeps her pure and lends a pleasant taste | Y |
To her young waters as they bubble past | Y |
You hear her lapping round the barren flanks | K |
Of these old heaps we call the Cinder banks '' | - |
Where our forefathers forged their iron ore | B2 |
When Paul's was building Now the rabbits bore | B2 |
In the still nights beneath these ancient heaps | K |
A very honeycomb See where she peeps | K |
The infant river You could hardly wet | Y |
Your ankles in her midmost eddy yet | Y |
She has a pretty cunning in her look | X |
Mixed with alarm as in her secret nook | X |
We find her out half fugitive half brave | C2 |
A look that all the Forest creatures have | D2 |
Let us away Perhaps her guilelessness | K |
Is troubled at a guilty human face | K |
Mine Prudence not your own I know a dell | B |
Knee deep in fern hard by the very cell | B |
For an elf hermit Here stag mosses grow | E2 |
Thick as a coverlet and fox gloves blow | E2 |
Purple and white and the wild columbine | O |
And here in May there springs that thing divine | O |
The lily of the valley only here | F2 |
Found in the Forest blossoming year on year | Z |
A place o'ershadowed by a low crowned oak | G2 |
The enchanted princess never had been woke | G2 |
If she had gone to sleep in such a spot | Y |
In spite of fortune Why a corpse forgot | Y |
Might lie with eyes appealing to the sky | H2 |
Unburied here for half a century | K |
And this the woodcocks as I take it knew | O |
Who stayed to breed here all the summer through | O |
When other birds were gone I flushed a pair | I2 |
On the longest day last year the nest was there | I2 |
And found some egg shells chipped among the moss | K |
The sight is rarer now than once it was | K |
- | |
There We have gathered breath and climbed the hill | B |
And now can view the landscape more at will | B |
This is the Pilgrim road a well known track | J2 |
When folk did all their travelling on horseback | J2 |
Now long deserted yet a right of way | A |
And marked on all our maps with due display | A |
Beneath this yew tree which perhaps has seen | O |
Our fathers riding to St Thomas' shrine | O |
For this was once the way of pilgrimage | K2 |
From the south west for all who would engage | P |
Their vows at Canterbury we will sit | Y |
As doubtless they too sat and rest a bit | Y |
I love this solitude of birch and fern | O |
These quags and mosses and I love the stern | O |
Black yew trees and the hoary pastures bare | I2 |
Or tufted with long growths of withered hair | I2 |
And rank marsh grass I love the bell heath's bloom | W |
And the wild wealth which passionate Earth's womb | W |
Throws in the Forest's lap to clothe unseen | O |
Its ancient barrenness with youth and green | O |
I love the Forest 'tis but this one strip | L2 |
Along the watershed that still dares keep | M2 |
Its title to such name Yet once wide grown | O |
A mighty woodland stretched from Down to Down | O |
The last stronghold and desperate standing place | K |
Of that indigenous Britannic race | K |
Which fell before the English It was called | Y |
By Rome Anderida '' in Saxon Weald '' | - |
Time and decay and Man's relentless mood | Y |
Have long made havock of the lower wood | Y |
With axe and plough and now of all the plain | O |
These breadths of higher ground alone remain | O |
In token of its presence Who shall tell | B |
How long in these lost wilds of brake and fell | B |
Or in the tangled groves of oak below | E2 |
Gathering his sacred leaf the mistletoe | E2 |
Some Druid priest forgotten and in need | Y |
May here have kept his rite and owned his creed | Y |
After the rest For hardly yet less rude | Y |
Here later dwelt that patron of our wood | Y |
The | N2 |
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(1)
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