The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11): Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original IllustrationsHood, Thomas
General
The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11): Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations
Hood, Thomas
English poetry -- 19th century; English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, English
The great difficulty in verse is avowedly the rhyme. Dean
Swift says somewhere in his letters, “that a rhyme is as hard
to find with him as a guinea,”--and we all know that guineas
are proverbially scarce among poets. The merest versifier that
ever attempted a Valentine must have met with this Orson, some
untameable savage syllable that refused to chime in with society.
For instance, what poetical Foxhunter--a contributor to the
Sporting Magazine--has not drawn all the covers of Beynard Ceynard,
Deynard, Feynard, Geynard, Heynard, Keynard, Leynard, Meynard,
Neynard, Peynard, Queynard, to find a rhyme for Reynard? The spirit
of the times is decidedly against Tithe; and I know of no tithe
more oppressive than that poetical one, in heroic measure, which
requires that every tenth syllable shall pay a sound in kind. How
often the Poet goes up a line, only to be stopped at the end by
an impracticable rhyme, like a bull in a blind alley! I have an
ingenious medical friend, who might have been an eminent poet by
this time, but the first line he wrote ended in ipecacuanha, and
with all his physical and mental power, he has never yet been able
to find a rhyme for it.
The plan I propose aims to obviate this hardship. My system is, to
take the bull by the horns; in short, to try at first what words
will chime, before you go farther, and fare worse. To say nothing
of other advantages, it will at least have one good effect,--and
that is, to correct the erroneous notion of the would-be poets and
poetesses of the present day, that the great _end_ of poetry is
rhyme. I beg leave to present a specimen of worse, which proves
quite the reverse, and am, Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN GRUBB.
[Illustration: REFUSING TITHE.]
THE DOUBLE KNOCK.
Rat-tat it went upon the lion’s chin
“That hat, I know it!” cried the joyful girl:
“Summer’s it is, I know him by his knock,
Comers like him are welcome as the day!
Lizzy! go down and open the street-door,
Busy I am to anyone but _him_
Know him you must--he has been often here;
Show him up stairs, and tell him I’m alone.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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