How Sweet It Is, When Mother Fancy Rocks
William Wordsworth 1770 (Wordsworth House) – 1850 (Cumberland)
HOW sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks
The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood!
An old place, full of many a lovely brood,
Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks;
And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks,
Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks
At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,--
When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks
The crowd beneath her. Verily I think,
Such place to me is sometimes like a dream
Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link,
Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam
Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink,
And leap at once from the delicious stream.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 36 sec read
- 88 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABCAADAAEFEFEF |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 645 |
Words | 120 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 14 |
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"How Sweet It Is, When Mother Fancy Rocks" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/42222/how-sweet-it-is,-when-mother-fancy-rocks>.
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