Epistle - To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart. From The South-west Coast Or Cumberland - 1811 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEEFFGHEEIIJKB BLLMMNNOOPPFFQQRRAAS STTUUVVWWFFXXYYIIZA2 A2B2B2VVB2B2C2C2D2D2 E2E2LLF2F2G2G2H2H2I2 I2LLJ2J2K2L2M2M2L2L2 BBN2N2B2B2YB2YO2O2P2 P2Q2Q2MMR2R2R2BBR2R2 H2H2OOR2R2S2S2S2BBR2 R2B2B2BBT2T2R2R2B2B2 R2R2R2U2U2B2B2V2V2R2 R2R2R2R2R2R2R2W2W2B2 B2R2R2BBB2B2N2N2B2B2 B2R2R2R2R2R2R2X2X2Y2 Y2Z2Z2A3A3B2B2R2R2FF R2R2R2R2R2G2B3B2B2W2 W2W2FFC3C3R2R2R2R2R2 R2R2R2PPQQR2R2R2R2TT OOR2R2R2R2R2D3D3R2R2 E3E3R2R2R2R2R2R2R2R2 F3R2R2R2R2R2H2H2B2B2 V2V2R2R2R2R2B2B2B2B2 AAB2B2R2R2N2N2T2T2YR 2Y

Far from our home by Grasmere's quiet LakeA
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partakeA
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shoreB
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roarB
While day by day grim neighbour huge Black CombC
Frowns deepening visibly his native gloomD
Unless perchance rejecting in despiteE
What on the Plain 'we' have of warmth and lightE
In his own storms he hides himself from sightE
Rough is the time and thoughts that would be freeF
From heaviness oft fly dear Friend to theeF
Turn from a spot where neither sheltered roadG
Nor hedge row screen invites my steps abroadH
Where one poor Plane tree having as it mightE
Attained a stature twice a tall man's heightE
Hopeless of further growth and brown and sereI
Through half the summer stands with top cut sheerI
Like an unshifting weathercock which provesJ
How cold the quarter that the wind best lovesK
Or like a Centinel that evermoreB
Darkening the window ill defends the doorB
Of this unfinished house a Fortress bareL
Where strength has been the Builder's only careL
Whose rugged walls may still for years demandM
The final polish of the Plasterer's handM
This Dwelling's Inmate more than three weeks spaceN
And oft a Prisoner in the cheerless placeN
I of whose touch the fiddle would complainO
Whose breath would labour at the flute in vainO
In music all unversed nor blessed with skillP
A bridge to copy or to paint a millP
Tired of my books a scanty companyF
And tired of listening to the boisterous seaF
Pace between door and window muttering rhymeQ
An old resource to cheat a froward timeQ
Though these dull hours mine is it or their shameR
Would tempt me to renounce that humble aimR
But if there be a Muse who free to takeA
Her seat upon Olympus doth forsakeA
Those heights like Phoebus when his golden locksS
He veiled attendant on Thessalian flocksS
And in disguise a Milkmaid with her pailT
Trips down the pathways of some winding daleT
Or like a Mermaid warbles on the shoresU
To fishers mending nets beside their doorsU
Or Pilgrim like on forest moss reclinedV
Gives plaintive ditties to the heedless windV
Or listens to its play among the boughsW
Above her head and so forgets her vowsW
If such a Visitant of Earth there beF
And she would deign this day to smile on meF
And aid my verse content with local boundsX
Of natural beauty and life's daily roundsX
Thoughts chances sights or doings which we tellY
Without reserve to those whom we love wellY
Then haply Beaumont words in current clearI
Will flow and on a welcome page appearI
Duly before thy sight unless they perish hereZ
What shall I treat of News from Mona's IsleA2
Such have we but unvaried in its styleA2
No tales of Runagates fresh landed whenceB2
And wherefore fugitive or on what pretenceB2
Of feasts or scandal eddying like the windV
Most restlessly alive when most confinedV
Ask not of me whose tongue can best appeaseB2
The mighty tumults of the HOUSE OF KEYSB2
The last year's cup whose Ram or Heifer gainedC2
What slopes are planted or what mosses drainedC2
An eye of fancy only can I castD2
On that proud pageant now at hand or pastD2
When full five hundred boats in trim arrayE2
With nets and sails outspread and streamers gayE2
And chanted hymns and stiller voice of prayerL
For the old Manx harvest to the Deep repairL
Soon as the herring shoals at distance shineF2
Like beds of moonlight shifting on the brineF2
Mona from our Abode is daily seenG2
But with a wilderness of waves betweenG2
And by conjecture only can we speakH2
Of aught transacted there in bay or creekH2
No tidings reach us thence from town or fieldI2
Only faint news her mountain sunbeams yieldI2
And some we gather from the misty airL
And some the hovering clouds our telegraph declareL
But these poetic mysteries I withholdJ2
For Fancy hath her fits both hot and coldJ2
And should the colder fit with You be onK2
When You might read my credit would be goneL2
Let more substantial themes the pen engageM2
And nearer interests culled from the opening stageM2
Of our migration Ere the welcome dawnL2
Had from the east her silver star withdrawnL2
The Wain stood ready at our Cottage doorB
Thoughtfully freighted with a various storeB
And long or ere the uprising of the SunN2
O'er dew damped dust our journey was begunN2
A needful journey under favouring skiesB2
Through peopled Vales yet something in the guiseB2
Of those old Patriarchs when from well to wellY
They roamed through Wastes where now the tented ArabsB2
dwellY
Say first to whom did we the charge confideO2
Who promptly undertook the Wain to guideO2
Up many a sharply twining road and downP2
And over many a wide hill's craggy crownP2
Through the quick turns of many a hollow nookQ2
And the rough bed of many an unbridged brookQ2
A blooming Lass who in her better handM
Bore a light switch her sceptre of commandM
When yet a slender Girl she often ledR2
Skilful and bold the horse and burthened 'sled'R2
From the peat yielding Moss on Gowdar's headR2
What could go wrong with such a CharioteerB
For goods and chattels or those Infants dearB
A Pair who smilingly sate side by sideR2
Our hope confirming that the salt sea tideR2
Whose free embraces we were bound to seekH2
Would their lost strength restore and freshen the pale cheekH2
Such hope did either Parent entertainO
Pacing behind along the silent laneO
Blithe hopes and happy musings soon took flightR2
For lo an uncouth melancholy sightR2
On a green bank a creature stood forlornS2
Just half protruded to the light of mornS2
Its hinder part concealed by hedge row thornS2
The Figure called to mind a beast of preyB
Stript of its frightful powers by slow decayB
And though no longer upon rapine bentR2
Dim memory keeping of its old intentR2
We started looked again with anxious eyesB2
And in that griesly object recogniseB2
The Curate's Dog his long tried friend for theyB
As well we knew together had grown greyB
The Master died his drooping servant's griefT2
Found at the Widow's feet some sad reliefT2
Yet still he lived in pining discontentR2
Sadness which no indulgence could preventR2
Hence whole day wanderings broken nightly sleepsB2
And lonesome watch that out of doors he keepsB2
Not oftentimes I trust as we poor bruteR2
Espied him on his legs sustained blank muteR2
And of all visible motion destituteR2
So that the very heaving of his breathU2
Seemed stopt though by some other power than deathU2
Long as we gazed upon the form and faceB2
A mild domestic pity kept its placeB2
Unscared by thronging fancies of strange hueV2
That haunted us in spite of what we knewV2
Even now I sometimes think of him as lostR2
In second sight appearances or crostR2
By spectral shapes of guilt or to the groundR2
On which he stood by spells unnatural boundR2
Like a gaunt shaggy Porter forced to waitR2
In days of old romance at Archimago's gateR2
Advancing Summer Nature's law fulfilledR2
The choristers in every grove had stilledR2
But we we lacked not music of our ownW2
For lightsome Fanny had thus early thrownW2
Mid the gay prattle of those infant tonguesB2
Some notes prelusive from the round of songsB2
With which more zealous than the liveliest birdR2
That in wild Arden's brakes was ever heardR2
Her work and her work's partners she can cheerB
The whole day long and all days of the yearB
Thus gladdened from our own dear Vale we passB2
And soon approach Diana's Looking glassB2
To Loughrigg tarn round clear and bright as heavenN2
Such name Italian fancy would have givenN2
Ere on its banks the few grey cabins roseB2
That yet disturb not its concealed reposeB2
More than the feeblest wind that idly blowsB2
Ah Beaumont when an opening in the roadR2
Stopped me at once by charm of what it showedR2
The encircling region vividly exprestR2
Within the mirror's depth a world at restR2
Sky streaked with purple grove and craggy 'bield'R2
And the smooth green of many a pendent fieldR2
And quieted and soothed a torrent smallX2
A little daring would be waterfallX2
One chimney smoking and its azure wreathY2
Associate all in the calm Pool beneathY2
With here and there a faint imperfect gleamZ2
Of water lilies veiled in misty steamZ2
What wonder at this hour of stillness deepA3
A shadowy link 'tween wakefulness and sleepA3
When Nature's self amid such blending seemsB2
To render visible her own soft dreamsB2
If mixed with what appeared of rock lawn woodR2
Fondly embosomed in the tranquil floodR2
A glimpse I caught of that Abode by TheeF
Designed to rise in humble privacyF
A lowly Dwelling here to be outspreadR2
Like a small Hamlet with its bashful headR2
Half hid in native trees Alas 'tis notR2
Nor ever was I sighed and left the spotR2
Unconscious of its own untoward lotR2
And thought in silence with regret too keenG2
Of unexperienced joys that might have beenB3
Of neighbourhood and intermingling artsB2
And golden summer days uniting cheerful heartsB2
But time irrevocable time is flownW2
And let us utter thanks for blessings sownW2
And reaped what hath been and what is our ownW2
Not far we travelled ere a shout of gleeF
Startling us all dispersed my reverieF
Such shout as many a sportive echo meetingC3
Oft times from Alpine 'chalets' sends a greetingC3
Whence the blithe hail behold a Peasant standR2
On high a kerchief waving in her handR2
Not unexpectant that by early dayR2
Our little Band would thrid this mountain wayR2
Before her cottage on the bright hill sideR2
She hath advanced with hope to be descriedR2
Right gladly answering signals we displayedR2
Moving along a tract of morning shadeR2
And vocal wishes sent of like good willP
To our kind Friend high on the sunny hillP
Luminous region fair as if the primeQ
Were tempting all astir to look aloft or climbQ
Only the centre of the shining cotR2
With door left open makes a gloomy spotR2
Emblem of those dark corners sometimes foundR2
Within the happiest breast on earthly groundR2
Rich prospect left behind of stream and valeT
And mountain tops a barren ridge we scaleT
Descend and reach in Yewdale's depths a plainO
With haycocks studded striped with yellowing grainO
An area level as a Lake and spreadR2
Under a rock too steep for man to treadR2
Where sheltered from the north and bleak northwestR2
Aloft the Raven hangs a visible nestR2
Fearless of all assaults that would her brood molestR2
Hot sunbeams fill the steaming vale but harkD3
At our approach a jealous watch dog's barkD3
Noise that brings forth no liveried Page of stateR2
But the whole household that our coming waitR2
With Young and Old warm greetings we exchangeE3
And jocund smiles and toward the lowly GrangeE3
Press forward by the teasing dogs unscaredR2
Entering we find the morning meal preparedR2
So down we sit though not till each had castR2
Pleased looks around the delicate repastR2
Rich cream and snow white eggs fresh from the nestR2
With amber honey from the mountain's breastR2
Strawberries from lane or woodland offering wildR2
Of children's industry in hillocks piledR2
Cakes for the nonce and butter fit to lieF3
Upon a lordly dish frank hospitalityR2
Where simple art with bounteous nature viedR2
And cottage comfort shuned not seemly prideR2
Kind Hostess Handmaid also of the feastR2
If thou be lovelier than the kindling EastR2
Words by thy presence unrestrained may speakH2
Of a perpetual dawn from brow and cheekH2
Instinct with light whose sweetest promise liesB2
Never retiring in thy large dark eyesB2
Dark but to every gentle feeling trueV2
As if their lustre flowed from ether's purest blueV2
Let me not ask what tears may have been weptR2
By those bright eyes what weary vigils keptR2
Beside that hearth what sighs may have been heavedR2
For wounds inflicted nor what toil relievedR2
By fortitude and patience and the graceB2
Of heaven in pity visiting the placeB2
Not unadvisedly those secret springsB2
I leave unsearched enough that memory clingsB2
Here as elsewhere to notices that makeA
Their own significance for hearts awakeA
To rural incidents whose genial powersB2
Filled with delight three summer morning hoursB2
More cold my pen report of grave or gayR2
That through our gipsy travel cheered the wayR2
But bursting forth above the waves the SunN2
Laughs at my pains and seems to say Be doneN2
Yet Beaumont thou wilt not I trust reproveT2
This humble offering made by Truth to LoveT2
Nor chide the Muse that stooped to break a spellY
Which might have else been on me yetR2
FAREWELLY

William Wordsworth



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