Analysis of A Poetical Epistle To Lady Austen



Dear Anna, -- Between friend and friend,
Prose answers every common end;
Serves, in a plain and homely way,
To express the occurrence of the day;
Our health, the weather, and the news,
What walks we take, what books we choose,
And all the floating thoughts we find
Upon the surface of the mind.
But when a poet takes the pen,
Far more alive than other men,
He feels a gentle tingling come
Down to his finger and his thumb,
Derived from nature's noblest part,
The centre of a glowing heart:
And this is what the world, who knows
No flights above the pitch of prose,
His more sublime vagaries slighting,
Denominates an itch for writing.
No wonder I, who scribble rhyme
To catch the triflers of the time,
And tell them truths divine and clear,
Which, couched in prose, they will not hear;
Who laboured hard to allure and draw
The loiterers I never saw,
Should feel that itching and that tingling
With all my purpose intermingling,
To your intrinsic merit true,
When called to address myself to you.
Mysterious are His ways, whose power
Brings forth that unexpected hour,
When minds, that never met before,
Shall meet, unite, and part no more;
It is the allotment of the skies,
The hand of the Supremely Wise,
That guides and governs our affections,
And plans and orders our connections:
Directs us in our distant road,
And marks the bounds of our abode.
Thus we were settled when you found us,
Peasants and children all around us,
Not dreaming of so dear a friend,
Deep in the abyss of Silver-End.
Thus Martha, even against her will,
Perched on the top of yonder hill;
And you, though you must needs prefer
The fairer scenes of sweet Sancerre,
Are come from distant Loire, to choose
A cottage on the banks of Ouse.
This page of Providence quite new,
And now just opening to our view,
Employs our present thoughts and pains
To guess, and spell, what it contains:
But day by day, and year by year,
Will make the dark enigma clear;
And furnish us, perhaps, at last,
Like other scenes already past,
With proof, that we, and our affairs,
Are part of a Jehovah's cares:
For God unfolds, by slow degrees,
The purport of his deep decrees,
Sheds every hour a clearer light
In aid of our defective sight;
And spreads, at length, before the soul
A beautiful and perfect whole,
Which busy man's inventive brain
Toils to anticipate, in vain.
Say, Anna, had you never grown
The beauties of a rose full blown,
Could you, though luminous your eye,
By looking on the bud descry,
Or guess, with a prophetic power,
The future splendour of the flower?
Just so, the Omnipotent, who turns
The system of a world's concerns,
From mere minutiae can educe
Events of most important use,
And bid a dawning sky display
The blaze of a meridian day.
The works of man tend, one and all,
As needs they must, from great to small;
And vanity absorbs at length
The monuments of human strength.
But who can tell how vast the plan
Which this day's incident began?
Too small, perhaps, the slight occasion
For our dim-sighted observation;
It passed unnoticed, as the bird
That cleaves the yielding air unheard,
And yet may prove, when understood,
A harbinger of endless good.
Not that I deem, or mean to call
Friendship a blessing cheap or small;
But merely to remark, that ours,
Like some of nature's sweetest flowers,
Rose from a seed of tiny size,
That seemed to promise no such prize;
A transient visit intervening,
And made almost without a meaning,
(Hardly the effect of inclination),
Produced a friendship, then begun,
That has cemented us in one;
And placed it in our power to prove,
By long fidelity and love,
That Solomon has wisely spoken,--
'A threefold cord is not soon broken.'


Scheme Text too long
Poetic Form
Metre 11001101 110100101 10010101 1010010101 101010001 11111111 01010111 01010101 11010101 11011101 110101001 11110011 01110101 01010101 01110111 11010111 110110010 111110 11011101 1101101 01110101 11011111 11110101 011101 1111001100 111100100 11010101 1111111 0100111110 11101010 11110101 1110111 110010101 011001001 1101010010 0101010010 011010101 010111001 110101111 100101011 11011101 100011101 110100101 11011101 01111101 0101111 11110111 01010111 11110011 0111001101 011010101 11011101 11110111 11010101 01010111 11010101 111101001 11100101 11011101 0111101 1100100101 011100101 01110101 01000011 11010101 1101001 11011101 01010111 11110011 1101011 111001010 01011010 110010011 01010101 11010011 01110101 01010101 011001001 01111101 11111111 01000111 01001101 11111101 11110001 110101010 110110010 11010101 11010101 0111101 01001101 11111111 10010111 110101110 111101010 11011101 11110111 01010010 01101010 100011010 01010101 11010101 0110101011 11010001 110011010 01111110
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 3,554
Words 657
Sentences 14
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 105
Lines Amount 105
Letters per line (avg) 27
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 2,855
Words per stanza (avg) 653
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:18 min read
71

William Cowper

William Macquarie Cowper was an Australian Anglican archdeacon and Dean of Sydney. more…

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