Analysis of A Soliloquy Of The Full Moon, She Being In A Mad Passion
Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772 (Ottery St Mary) – 1834 (Highgate)
Now as Heaven is my Lot, they're the Pests of the Nation!
Wherever they can come
With clankum and blankum
'Tis all Botheration, & Hell & Damnation,
With fun, jeering
Conjuring
Sky-staring,
Loungerin g,
And still to the tune of Transmogrification--
Those muttering
Spluttering
Ventriloquogusty
P oets
With no Hats
Or Hats that are rusty.
They're my Torment and Curse
And harass me worse
And bait me and bay me, far sorer I vow
Than the Screech of the Owl
Or the witch-wolf's long howl,
Or sheep-killing Butcher-dog's inward Bow wow
For me they all spite--an unfortunate Wight.
And the very first moment that I came to Light
A Rascal call'd Voss the more to his scandal,
Turn'd me into a sickle with never a handle.
A Night or two after a worse Rogue there came,
The head of the Gang, one Wordsworth by name--
`Ho! What's in the wind?' 'Tis the voice of a Wizzard!
I saw him look at me most terribly blue !
He was hunting for witch-rhymes from great A to Izzard,
And soon as he'd found them made no more ado
But chang'd me at once to a little Canoe.
From this strange Enchantment uncharm'd by degrees
I began to take courage & hop'd for some Ease,
When one Coleridge, a Raff of the self-same Banditti
Past by--& intending no doubt to be witty,
Because I'd th' ill-fortune his taste to displease,
He turn'd up his nose,
And in pitiful Prose
Made me into the half of a small Cheshire Cheese.
Well, a night or two past--it was wind, rain & hail--
And I ventur'd abroad in a thick Cloak & veil--
But the very first Evening he saw me again
The last mentioned Ruffian popp'd out of his Den--
I was resting a moment on the bare edge of Naddle
I fancy the sight of me turn'd his Brains addle--
For what was I now?
A complete Barley-mow
And when I climb'd higher he made a long leg,
And chang'd me at once to an Ostrich's Egg--
But now Heaven be praised in contempt of the Loon,
I am I myself I, the jolly full Moon.
Yet my heart is still fluttering--
For I heard the Rogue muttering--
He was hulking and skulking at the skirt of a Wood
When lightly & brightly on tip-toe I stood
On the long level Line of a motionless Cloud
And ho! what a Skittle-ground! quoth he aloud
And wish'd from his heart nine Nine-pins to see
In brightness & size just proportion'd to me.
So I fear'd from my soul,
That he'd make me a Bowl,
But in spite of his spite
This was more than his might
And still Heaven be prais'd! in contempt of the Loon
I am I myself I, the jolly full Moon.
Scheme | abbacccdacceffdffghhgeeiijjekeekffedffffllmmhignoopPcceeeeddqqeepP |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11101111011010 010111 1101 1111010 1110 100 110 11 0110111 1100 1 1 11 111 111110 11101 00111 0110111111 101101 101111 11101011011 11111101001 001011011111 01011011110 1101010110010 01111001111 0110111011 11001101101 11111111001 1110111110110 01111111101 11111101001 1110101101 10111101111 11100110111 11010111110 0111111011101 11111 001001 110101101101 10111111111 01100100111 101011011101 0110111111 1110010101111 110011111110 11111 001101 01111011011 011111111 111011001101 1111101011 11111100 11101100 111001101101 1101011111 101101101001 01101011101 0111111111 0101101011 111111 111101 101111 111111 011011001101 1111101011 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,435 |
Words | 472 |
Sentences | 18 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 66 |
Lines Amount | 66 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,869 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 470 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:28 min read
- 157 Views
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"A Soliloquy Of The Full Moon, She Being In A Mad Passion" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/34221/a-soliloquy-of-the-full-moon%2C-she-being-in-a-mad-passion>.
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