Or when you've said your love is quite obdurate,
How in the world are you to faring in 'curate'?
Sometimes a lovely line that ends in silver
I've written, but to find no word like 'dilver'
Or 'quilver' doth exist—so most forego it,
A sacrifice to vex the mildest poet!
Suppose you write about your mistress' window,
The only rhyme that you will find is 'Lindo,'
And though an actor of some little fame
Owns that cognomen—Frank is his front name—
To bring him in it would the cleverest tease,
Except in rhymes like Ingoldsby's—or these.
As hard the case is when you talk of chimney,
For what's the use of such a rhyme as 'Rhymney'?
Or such a makeshift as a 'slim-or-trim-knee'?
How in the world are you to faring in 'curate'?
Sometimes a lovely line that ends in silver
I've written, but to find no word like 'dilver'
Or 'quilver' doth exist—so most forego it,
A sacrifice to vex the mildest poet!
Suppose you write about your mistress' window,
The only rhyme that you will find is 'Lindo,'
And though an actor of some little fame
Owns that cognomen—Frank is his front name—
To bring him in it would the cleverest tease,
Except in rhymes like Ingoldsby's—or these.
As hard the case is when you talk of chimney,
For what's the use of such a rhyme as 'Rhymney'?
Or such a makeshift as a 'slim-or-trim-knee'?
Sometimes the rhymes, though numerous enough,
All your attempts to couple them rebuff,
For 'tis a fact all poets are aware of
In fifty rhymes you may not find a pair of
Them which will fitly chime with one another,
Choose which you will, one seems at odds with t'other.
As oft with man and wife, they take delight
In showing off their mutual scorn and spite.
All your attempts to couple them rebuff,
For 'tis a fact all poets are aware of
In fifty rhymes you may not find a pair of
Them which will fitly chime with one another,
Choose which you will, one seems at odds with t'other.
As oft with man and wife, they take delight
In showing off their mutual scorn and spite.
But here I'll own that 'tis not always so—
Sometimes your rhymes will come without a throe,
For they'll present themselves both apt and numerous,
Sorted together in a way quite humorous:
What could be better than such rhymes as 'drunk,
Sunk, bunk,' et cetera, not forgetting 'monk,'
On all of which the changes you can ring
Just like—just like — oh, just like anything!
Sometimes your rhymes will come without a throe,
For they'll present themselves both apt and numerous,
Sorted together in a way quite humorous:
What could be better than such rhymes as 'drunk,
Sunk, bunk,' et cetera, not forgetting 'monk,'
On all of which the changes you can ring
Just like—just like — oh, just like anything!
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