Analysis of The Mayfair Love-Song
Winter and summer, night and morn,
I languish at this table dark;
My office window has a corn-
er looks into St. James's Park.
I hear the foot-guards' bugle-horn,
Their tramp upon parade I mark;
I am a gentleman forlorn,
I am a Foreign-Office Clerk.
My toils, my pleasures, every one,
I find are stale, and dull, and slow;
And yesterday, when work was done,
I felt myself so sad and low,
I could have seized a sentry's gun
My wearied brains out out to blow.
What is it makes my blood to run?
What makes my heart to beat and glow?
My notes of hand are burnt, perhaps?
Some one has paid my tailor's bill?
No: every morn the tailor raps;
My I O U's are extant still.
I still am prey of debt and dun;
My elder brother's stout and well.
What is it makes my blood to run?
What makes my heart to glow and swell?
I know my chief's distrust and hate;
He says I'm lazy, and I shirk.
Ah! had I genius like the late
Right Honorable Edmund Burke!
My chance of all promotion's gone,
I know it is,—he hates me so.
What is it makes my blood to run,
And all my heart to swell and glow?
Why, why is all so bright and gay?
There is no change, there is no cause;
My office-time I found to-day
Disgusting as it ever was.
At three, I went and tried the Clubs,
And yawned and saunter'd to and fro;
And now my heart jumps up and throbs,
And all my soul is in a glow.
At half-past four I had the cab;
I drove as hard as I could go.
The London sky was dirty drab,
And dirty brown the London snow.
And as I rattled in a cant-
er down by dear old Bolton Row,
A something made my heart to pant,
And caused my cheek to flush and glow.
What could it be that made me find
Old Jawkins pleasant at the Club?
Why was it that I laughed and grinned
At whist, although I lost the rub?
What was it made me drink like mad
Thirteen small glasses of Curaco?
That made my inmost heart so glad,
And every fibre thrill and glow?
She's home again! she's home, she's home!
Away all cares and griefs and pain;
I knew she would—she's back from Rome;
She's home again! she's home again!
'The family's gone abroad,' they said,
September last they told me so;
Since then my lonely heart is dead,
My blood I think's forgot to flow.
She's home again! away all care!
O fairest form the world can show!
O beaming eyes! O golden hair!
O tender voice, that breathes so low!
O gentlest, softest, purest heart!
O joy, O hope!—'My tiger, ho!'
Fitz-Clarence said; we saw him start—
He galloped down to Bolton Row.
Scheme | abababac dededeDe fgfgdhDh icicxeDe jkjkxefe lelememe xnxnoboe pxpxqeqe reresese |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 10010101 11011101 11010101 01011101 11011101 11010111 11010001 11010101 111101001 11110101 0101111 1111101 1111011 11011111 11111111 11111101 11111101 1111111 110010101 11111101 11111101 11010101 11111111 11111101 11110101 11110011 11110101 11000101 111111 11111111 11111111 01111101 11111101 11111111 11011111 01011101 11110101 0101101 01111101 01111001 11111101 11111111 01011101 01010101 01110001 01111101 01011111 01111101 11111111 1110101 11111101 1111101 11111111 1111011 1111111 010010101 11011111 01110101 11111111 11011101 010010111 01011111 11110111 11110111 11010111 11010111 11011101 11011111 110010101 11111101 11011111 11011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,396 |
Words | 489 |
Sentences | 43 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 72 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 205 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 54 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:31 min read
- 108 Views
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"The Mayfair Love-Song" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/41056/the-mayfair-love-song>.
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