Ballade of Difficult Rhymes
WITH certain rhymes ’tis hard to deal;For ‘silver’ we have ne’er a rhyme.On ‘orange’ (as on orange peel)The bard has slipped full many a time.With ‘babe’ there’s scarce a sound will chime,Though ‘astrolabe’ fits like a glove;But, ye that on Parnassus climb,Why, why are rhymes so rare to Love?
A rhyme to ‘cusp,’ to beg or steal,I’ve sought, from evensong to prime,But vain is my poetic zeal,There’s not one sound is worth a ‘dime’:‘Bilge,’ ‘coif,’ ‘scarf,’ ‘window’—deeds of crimeI’d do to gain the rhymes thereof;Nor shrink from acts of moral grime—Why, why are rhymes so rare to Love?
To ‘dove’ my fancies flit, and wheelLike butterflies on banks of thyme.‘Above’?—or ‘shove’—alas! I feel,They’re too much used to be sublime.I scorn with angry pantomime,The thought of ‘move’ (pronounced as muv).Ah, in Apollo’s golden climeWhy, why are rhymes so rare to Love?