Analysis of To a Friend
William Shenstone 1714 (Halesowen) – 1763 (Halesowen)
Have you ne'er seen, my gentle Squire!
The humours of your kitchen fire?
Says Ned to Sal, 'I lead a spade;
Why don't ye play?-the girl's afraid-
Play something-anything-but play-
'Tis but to pass the time away-
Phoo-how she stands-biting her nails-
As though she play'd for half her vails-
Sorting her cards, haggling, and picking-
We play for nothing, do us, chicken?
That card will do-'blood never doubt it,
It's not worth while to think about it.'
Sal thought, and thought, and miss'd her aim,
And Ned ne'er studying won the game.
Methinks, old friend! 'tis wondrous true
That verse is but a game at loo:
While many a bard, that shows so clearly
He writes for his amusement merely,
Is known to study, fret, and toil,
And play for nothing all the while,
Or praise at most; for wreaths of yore
Ne'er signified a farthing more!
Till having vainly toil'd to gain it,
He sees your flying pen obtain it.
Through fragrant scenes the trifler roves,
And hallow'd haunts that Phoebus loves:
Where with strange heats his bosom glows,
And mystic flames the god bestows.
You now none other flames require
Than a good blazing parlour fire;
Write verses-to defy the scorners
In -houses and chimney-corners.
Sal found her deep-laid schemes were vain-
The cards were cut-come, deal again-
No good comes on it when one lingers-
I'll play the cards come next my fingers-
Fortune could never let Ned loo her,
When she had left it wholly to her.
Well, now who wins?-why, still the same-
For Sal has lost another game.
I've done (she mutter'd); I was saying,
It did not argufy my playing.
Some folks will win, they cannot choose;
But think or not think-some must lose.
I may have won a game or so-
But then it was an age ago-
It ne'er will be my lot again-
I won it of a baby then-
Give me an ace of trumps, and see!
Our Ned will beat me with a three!
'Tis all by luck that things are carried-
He'll suffer for it, when he's married.'
Thus Sal, with tears in either eye,
While victor Ned sate tittering by.
Thus I, long envying your success,
And bent to write and study less,
Sate down, and scribbled in a trice,
Just what you see-and you despise.
You, who can frame a tuneful song,
And hum it as you ride along,
And, trotting on the king's highway,
Snatch from the hedge a sprig of bay,
Accept this verse, howe'er it flows,
From one that is your friend in prose.
What is this wreath, so green, so fair,
Which many wish, and few must wear;
Which some men's indolence can gain,
And some men's vigils ne'er obtain?
For what must Sal or poet sue,
Ere they engage with Ned or you?
For luck in verse, for luck at loo?
Ah, no! 'tis genius gives you fame,
And Ned, through skill, secures the game.
Scheme | ABCCDDEEFGHHIIJJKKLMNNHHEOPPBBEQRSQQBBIIFFTTUUSSKKVVWWXXYZ1 1 DDPP2 2 RRJJJII |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11111101 01111010 11111101 11110101 1101011 11110101 11111001 11111101 1001100010 111101110 111111011 111111011 11010101 011100101 1111101 11110111 1100111110 111101010 11110101 01110101 11111111 1100101 110101111 111101011 1101011 01011101 11111101 01010101 11110110 101101010 11010101 01001010 11011101 01011101 111111110 110111110 101101110 111111010 11111101 11110101 111101110 1111110 11111101 11111111 11110111 11111101 11111101 11110101 11111101 101111101 111111110 110111110 11110101 1101111 1111101 01110101 11010001 11110101 11110101 01111101 0101011 11010111 01111011 11111101 11111111 11010111 111111 01110101 11111101 11011111 11011111 11110111 01110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,607 |
Words | 502 |
Sentences | 28 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 73 |
Lines Amount | 73 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 2,026 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 496 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:36 min read
- 103 Views
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"To a Friend" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/41619/to-a-friend>.
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