Anecdote For Fathers Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH IJIJ KLKL MNMO LB BLB P Q RBL SQS THTH UQU VWVW

I HAVE a boy of five years oldA
His face is fair and fresh to seeB
His limbs are cast in beauty s moldA
And dearly he loves meB
-
One morn we strolled on our dry walkC
Or quiet home all full in viewD
And held such intermitted talkC
As we are wont to doD
-
My thoughts on former pleasures ranE
I thought of Kilve's delightful shoreF
Our pleasant home when spring beganE
A long long year beforeF
-
A day it was when I could bearG
Some fond regrets to entertainH
With so much happiness to spareG
I could not feel a painH
-
The green earth echoed to the feetI
Of lambs that bounded through the gladeJ
From shade to sunshine and as fleetI
From sunshine back to shadeJ
-
Birds warbled round me and each traceK
Of inward sadness had its charmL
Kilve thought I was a favoured placeK
And so is Liswyn farmL
-
My boy beside me tripped so slimM
And graceful in his rustic dressN
And as we talked I questioned himM
In very idlenessO
-
'Now tell me had you rather be '-
I said and took him by the armL
'On Kilve's smooth shore by the green seaB
Or here at Liswyn farm '-
-
In careless mood he looked at meB
While still I held him by the armL
And said 'At Kilve I'd rather beB
Than here at Liswyn farm '-
-
'Now little Edward say why soP
My little Edward tell me why '-
'I cannot tell I do not know '-
'Why this is strange ' said IQ
-
'For here are woods hills smooth and warmR
There surely must one reason beB
Why you would change sweet Liswyn farmL
For Kilve by the green sea '-
-
At this my boy hung down his headS
He blushed with shame nor made replyQ
And three times to the child I saidS
'Why Edward tell me why '-
-
His head he raised there was in sightT
It caught his eye he saw it plainH
Upon the house top glittering brightT
A broad and gilded vaneH
-
Then did the boy his tongue unlockU
And eased his mind with this replyQ
'At Kilve there was no weather cockU
And that's the reaon why '-
-
O dearest dearest boy my heartV
For better lore would seldom yearnW
Could I but teach the hundredth partV
Of what from thee I learnW

William Wordsworth



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