Analysis of Sent As From A School--Fellow To My Son
Mary Barber 1685 – 1755
I grieve to see you waste your Time,
And turn your Thoughts so much to Rhyme,
Be wise--your useless Views resign,
And fly the fair, delusive Nine.
I know, they try their wonted Art,
To win your easy, youthful Heart;
They talk of an immortal Name,
And promise you the Realms of Fame:
A mighty Empire, Con. 'tis true,
But wondrous small the Revenue!
They'll tell you too, to gain their Ends,
That Verse will raise you pow'rful Friends.
Believe me, Youth, this is not true:
The Great think ev'ry Thing their Due.
Scheme | AABB CCDDEE FFEE |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111111 01111111 11110101 010111 1111111 11110101 11110101 01010111 010100111 1101010 11111111 1111111 01111111 0111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 504 |
Words | 95 |
Sentences | 6 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 6, 4 |
Lines Amount | 14 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 130 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 31 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 29 sec read
- 104 Views
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"Sent As From A School--Fellow To My Son" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/26632/sent-as-from-a-school--fellow-to-my-son>.
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