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 P2Q2Q2MMR2R2R2BBO2O2 H2H2OOEES2S2S2BBT2T2 B2B2BBU2U2T2T2B2B2V2 V2V2W2W2B2B2X2X2Y2Y2 Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Z2Z2B2B2 Y2Y2BBB2B2N2N2B2B2B2 Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2A3A3B3B3 C3C3D3D3B2B2Y2Y2FFY2 Y2Y2Y2Y2G2E3B2B2Z2Z2 Z2FFF3F3Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2 Y2Y2PPQQY2Y2Y2Y2TTOO Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2G3G3Y2Y2H3 H3Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2I3 Y2Y2Y2Y2Y2H2H2B2B2X2 X2Y2Y2Y2Y2B2B2B2B2AA B2B2Y2Y2N2N2U2U2YY2YFar from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake | A |
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake | A |
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore | B |
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar | B |
While day by day grim neighbour huge Black Comb | C |
Frowns deepening visibly his native gloom | D |
Unless perchance rejecting in despite | E |
What on the Plain 'we' have of warmth and light | E |
In his own storms he hides himself from sight | E |
Rough is the time and thoughts that would be free | F |
From heaviness oft fly dear Friend to thee | F |
Turn from a spot where neither sheltered road | G |
Nor hedge row screen invites my steps abroad | H |
Where one poor Plane tree having as it might | E |
Attained a stature twice a tall man's height | E |
Hopeless of further growth and brown and sere | I |
Through half the summer stands with top cut sheer | I |
Like an unshifting weathercock which proves | J |
How cold the quarter that the wind best loves | K |
Or like a Centinel that evermore | B |
Darkening the window ill defends the door | B |
Of this unfinished house a Fortress bare | L |
Where strength has been the Builder's only care | L |
Whose rugged walls may still for years demand | M |
The final polish of the Plasterer's hand | M |
This Dwelling's Inmate more than three weeks space | N |
And oft a Prisoner in the cheerless place | N |
I of whose touch the fiddle would complain | O |
Whose breath would labour at the flute in vain | O |
In music all unversed nor blessed with skill | P |
A bridge to copy or to paint a mill | P |
Tired of my books a scanty company | F |
And tired of listening to the boisterous sea | F |
Pace between door and window muttering rhyme | Q |
An old resource to cheat a froward time | Q |
Though these dull hours mine is it or their shame | R |
Would tempt me to renounce that humble aim | R |
But if there be a Muse who free to take | A |
Her seat upon Olympus doth forsake | A |
Those heights like Phoebus when his golden locks | S |
He veiled attendant on Thessalian flocks | S |
And in disguise a Milkmaid with her pail | T |
Trips down the pathways of some winding dale | T |
Or like a Mermaid warbles on the shores | U |
To fishers mending nets beside their doors | U |
Or Pilgrim like on forest moss reclined | V |
Gives plaintive ditties to the heedless wind | V |
Or listens to its play among the boughs | W |
Above her head and so forgets her vows | W |
If such a Visitant of Earth there be | F |
And she would deign this day to smile on me | F |
And aid my verse content with local bounds | X |
Of natural beauty and life's daily rounds | X |
Thoughts chances sights or doings which we tell | Y |
Without reserve to those whom we love well | Y |
Then haply Beaumont words in current clear | I |
Will flow and on a welcome page appear | I |
Duly before thy sight unless they perish here | Z |
What shall I treat of News from Mona's Isle | A2 |
Such have we but unvaried in its style | A2 |
No tales of Runagates fresh landed whence | B2 |
And wherefore fugitive or on what pretence | B2 |
Of feasts or scandal eddying like the wind | V |
Most restlessly alive when most confined | V |
Ask not of me whose tongue can best appease | B2 |
The mighty tumults of the HOUSE OF KEYS | B2 |
The last year's cup whose Ram or Heifer gained | C2 |
What slopes are planted or what mosses drained | C2 |
An eye of fancy only can I cast | D2 |
On that proud pageant now at hand or past | D2 |
When full five hundred boats in trim array | E2 |
With nets and sails outspread and streamers gay | E2 |
And chanted hymns and stiller voice of prayer | L |
For the old Manx harvest to the Deep repair | L |
Soon as the herring shoals at distance shine | F2 |
Like beds of moonlight shifting on the brine | F2 |
Mona from our Abode is daily seen | G2 |
But with a wilderness of waves between | G2 |
And by conjecture only can we speak | H2 |
Of aught transacted there in bay or creek | H2 |
No tidings reach us thence from town or field | I2 |
Only faint news her mountain sunbeams yield | I2 |
And some we gather from the misty air | L |
And some the hovering clouds our telegraph declare | L |
But these poetic mysteries I withhold | J2 |
For Fancy hath her fits both hot and cold | J2 |
And should the colder fit with You be on | K2 |
When You might read my credit would be gone | L2 |
Let more substantial themes the pen engage | M2 |
And nearer interests culled from the opening stage | M2 |
Of our migration Ere the welcome dawn | L2 |
Had from the east her silver star withdrawn | L2 |
The Wain stood ready at our Cottage door | B |
Thoughtfully freighted with a various store | B |
And long or ere the uprising of the Sun | N2 |
O'er dew damped dust our journey was begun | N2 |
A needful journey under favouring skies | B2 |
Through peopled Vales yet something in the guise | B2 |
Of those old Patriarchs when from well to well | Y |
They roamed through Wastes where now the tented Arabs | B2 |
dwell | Y |
Say first to whom did we the charge confide | O2 |
Who promptly undertook the Wain to guide | O2 |
Up many a sharply twining road and down | P2 |
And over many a wide hill's craggy crown | P2 |
Through the quick turns of many a hollow nook | Q2 |
And the rough bed of many an unbridged brook | Q2 |
A blooming Lass who in her better hand | M |
Bore a light switch her sceptre of command | M |
When yet a slender Girl she often led | R2 |
Skilful and bold the horse and burthened sled | R2 |
From the peat yielding Moss on Gowdar's head | R2 |
What could go wrong with such a Charioteer | B |
For goods and chattels or those Infants dear | B |
A Pair who smilingly sate side by side | O2 |
Our hope confirming that the salt sea tide | O2 |
Whose free embraces we were bound to seek | H2 |
Would their lost strength restore and freshen the pale cheek | H2 |
Such hope did either Parent entertain | O |
Pacing behind along the silent lane | O |
Blithe hopes and happy musings soon took flight | E |
For lo an uncouth melancholy sight | E |
On a green bank a creature stood forlorn | S2 |
Just half protruded to the light of morn | S2 |
Its hinder part concealed by hedge row thorn | S2 |
The Figure called to mind a beast of prey | B |
Stript of its frightful powers by slow decay | B |
And though no longer upon rapine bent | T2 |
Dim memory keeping of its old intent | T2 |
We started looked again with anxious eyes | B2 |
And in that griesly object recognise | B2 |
The Curate's Dog his long tried friend for they | B |
As well we knew together had grown grey | B |
The Master died his drooping servant's grief | U2 |
Found at the Widow's feet some sad relief | U2 |
Yet still he lived in pining discontent | T2 |
Sadness which no indulgence could prevent | T2 |
Hence whole day wanderings broken nightly sleeps | B2 |
And lonesome watch that out of doors he keeps | B2 |
Not oftentimes I trust as we poor brute | V2 |
Espied him on his legs sustained blank mute | V2 |
And of all visible motion destitute | V2 |
So that the very heaving of his breath | W2 |
Seemed stopt though by some other power than death | W2 |
Long as we gazed upon the form and face | B2 |
A mild domestic pity kept its place | B2 |
Unscared by thronging fancies of strange hue | X2 |
That haunted us in spite of what we knew | X2 |
Even now I sometimes think of him as lost | Y2 |
In second sight appearances or crost | Y2 |
By spectral shapes of guilt or to the ground | Y2 |
On which he stood by spells unnatural bound | Y2 |
Like a gaunt shaggy Porter forced to wait | Y2 |
In days of old romance at Archimago's gate | Y2 |
Advancing Summer Nature's law fulfilled | Y2 |
The choristers in every grove had stilled | Y2 |
But we we lacked not music of our own | Z2 |
For lightsome Fanny had thus early thrown | Z2 |
Mid the gay prattle of those infant tongues | B2 |
Some notes prelusive from the round of songs | B2 |
With which more zealous than the liveliest bird | Y2 |
That in wild Arden's brakes was ever heard | Y2 |
Her work and her work's partners she can cheer | B |
The whole day long and all days of the year | B |
Thus gladdened from our own dear Vale we pass | B2 |
And soon approach Diana's Looking glass | B2 |
To Loughrigg tarn round clear and bright as heaven | N2 |
Such name Italian fancy would have given | N2 |
Ere on its banks the few grey cabins rose | B2 |
That yet disturb not its concealed repose | B2 |
More than the feeblest wind that idly blows | B2 |
Ah Beaumont when an opening in the road | Y2 |
Stopped me at once by charm of what it showed | Y2 |
The encircling region vividly exprest | Y2 |
Within the mirror's depth a world at rest | Y2 |
Sky streaked with purple grove and craggy bield | Y2 |
And the smooth green of many a pendent field | Y2 |
And quieted and soothed a torrent small | A3 |
A little daring would be waterfall | A3 |
One chimney smoking and its azure wreath | B3 |
Associate all in the calm Pool beneath | B3 |
With here and there a faint imperfect gleam | C3 |
Of water lilies veiled in misty steam | C3 |
What wonder at this hour of stillness deep | D3 |
A shadowy link 'tween wakefulness and sleep | D3 |
When Nature's self amid such blending seems | B2 |
To render visible her own soft dreams | B2 |
If mixed with what appeared of rock lawn wood | Y2 |
Fondly embosomed in the tranquil flood | Y2 |
A glimpse I caught of that Abode by Thee | F |
Designed to rise in humble privacy | F |
A lowly Dwelling here to be outspread | Y2 |
Like a small Hamlet with its bashful head | Y2 |
Half hid in native trees Alas 'tis not | Y2 |
Nor ever was I sighed and left the spot | Y2 |
Unconscious of its own untoward lot | Y2 |
And thought in silence with regret too keen | G2 |
Of unexperienced joys that might have been | E3 |
Of neighbourhood and intermingling arts | B2 |
And golden summer days uniting cheerful hearts | B2 |
But time irrevocable time is flown | Z2 |
And let us utter thanks for blessings sown | Z2 |
And reaped what hath been and what is our own | Z2 |
Not far we travelled ere a shout of glee | F |
Startling us all dispersed my reverie | F |
Such shout as many a sportive echo meeting | F3 |
Oft times from Alpine 'chalets' sends a greeting | F3 |
Whence the blithe hail behold a Peasant stand | Y2 |
On high a kerchief waving in her hand | Y2 |
Not unexpectant that by early day | Y2 |
Our little Band would thrid this mountain way | Y2 |
Before her cottage on the bright hill side | Y2 |
She hath advanced with hope to be descried | Y2 |
Right gladly answering signals we displayed | Y2 |
Moving along a tract of morning shade | Y2 |
And vocal wishes sent of like good will | P |
To our kind Friend high on the sunny hill | P |
Luminous region fair as if the prime | Q |
Were tempting all astir to look aloft or climb | Q |
Only the centre of the shining cot | Y2 |
With door left open makes a gloomy spot | Y2 |
Emblem of those dark corners sometimes found | Y2 |
Within the happiest breast on earthly ground | Y2 |
Rich prospect left behind of stream and vale | T |
And mountain tops a barren ridge we scale | T |
Descend and reach in Yewdale's depths a plain | O |
With haycocks studded striped with yellowing grain | O |
An area level as a Lake and spread | Y2 |
Under a rock too steep for man to tread | Y2 |
Where sheltered from the north and bleak northwest | Y2 |
Aloft the Raven hangs a visible nest | Y2 |
Fearless of all assaults that would her brood molest | Y2 |
Hot sunbeams fill the steaming vale but hark | G3 |
At our approach a jealous watch dog's bark | G3 |
Noise that brings forth no liveried Page of state | Y2 |
But the whole household that our coming wait | Y2 |
With Young and Old warm greetings we exchange | H3 |
And jocund smiles and toward the lowly Grange | H3 |
Press forward by the teasing dogs unscared | Y2 |
Entering we find the morning meal prepared | Y2 |
So down we sit though not till each had cast | Y2 |
Pleased looks around the delicate repast | Y2 |
Rich cream and snow white eggs fresh from the nest | Y2 |
With amber honey from the mountain's breast | Y2 |
Strawberries from lane or woodland offering wild | Y2 |
Of children's industry in hillocks piled | Y2 |
Cakes for the nonce and butter fit to lie | I3 |
Upon a lordly dish frank hospitality | Y2 |
Where simple art with bounteous nature vied | Y2 |
And cottage comfort shuned not seemly pride | Y2 |
Kind Hostess Handmaid also of the feast | Y2 |
If thou be lovelier than the kindling East | Y2 |
Words by thy presence unrestrained may speak | H2 |
Of a perpetual dawn from brow and cheek | H2 |
Instinct with light whose sweetest promise lies | B2 |
Never retiring in thy large dark eyes | B2 |
Dark but to every gentle feeling true | X2 |
As if their lustre flowed from ether's purest blue | X2 |
Let me not ask what tears may have been wept | Y2 |
By those bright eyes what weary vigils kept | Y2 |
Beside that hearth what sighs may have been heaved | Y2 |
For wounds inflicted nor what toil relieved | Y2 |
By fortitude and patience and the grace | B2 |
Of heaven in pity visiting the place | B2 |
Not unadvisedly those secret springs | B2 |
I leave unsearched enough that memory clings | B2 |
Here as elsewhere to notices that make | A |
Their own significance for hearts awake | A |
To rural incidents whose genial powers | B2 |
Filled with delight three summer morning hours | B2 |
More cold my pen report of grave or gay | Y2 |
That through our gipsy travel cheered the way | Y2 |
But bursting forth above the waves the Sun | N2 |
Laughs at my pains and seems to say Be done | N2 |
Yet Beaumont thou wilt not I trust reprove | U2 |
This humble offering made by Truth to Love | U2 |
Nor chide the Muse that stooped to break a spell | Y |
Which might have else been on me yet | Y2 |
FAREWELL | Y |
William Wordsworth
(1)
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