Analysis of A Parental Ode to My Son, Aged 3 Years and 5 months
Thomas Hood 1799 (London) – 1845 (London)
Thou happy, happy elf!
(But stop,—first let me kiss away that tear—)
Thou tiny image of myself!
(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)
Thou merry, laughing sprite!
With spirits feather-light,
Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;
(Good Heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)
Thou little tricksy Puck!
With antic toys so funnily bestuck,
Light as the singing bird that wings the air;
(The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)
Thou darling of thy sire!
(Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!)
Thou imp of mirth and joy!
In love's dear chain, so strong and bright a link,
Thou idol of thy parents; (Drat the boy!
There goes my ink!)
Thou cherub—but of earth;
Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonlight pale,
In harmless sport and myrth,
(That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!)
Thou human hummingbee, extracting honey
From every blossom in the world that blows,
Singing in youth's elysium ever sunny,
(Another tumble!—that's his precious nose!)
Thy father's pride and hope!
(He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!)
With pure heart newly stamped from Nature's mint;
(Where did he learn that squint!)
Thou young domestic dove!
(He'll have that jug off with another shove!)
Dear nursling of the Hymeneal nest!
(Are those torn clothes his best?)
Little epitome of man!
(He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan!)
Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life
(He's got a knife!)
Thou enviable being!
No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,
Play on, play on,
My elfin John!
Toss the light ball—bestride the stick—
(I knew so many cakes would make him sick!)
With fancies, buoyant as the thistle-down,
Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk,
With many a lamb-like frisk,
(He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!)
Thou pretty opening rose!
(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!)
Balmy and breathing music like the South,
(He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,
(I wish that window had an iron bar!)
Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove;
(I'll tell you what, my love,
I cannot write unless he's sent above!)
Scheme | ABAXCCDD EEBBXXFGFG HIHIJKJK LLMMNNOOPPQQ RRSSTTUVVU KKWWXXNNN |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 110101 1111110111 1101011 1111010111 110101 110101 011100111 11001110001 11011 1101111 1101011101 0101110101 1101110 11111101 111101 0111110101 1101110101 1111 110111 1111111 010101 1111111111 110101010 11001000111 100101001010 0101011101 110101 1101011101 1111011101 111111 110101 1111110101 111011 111111 10010011 1101010111 110111101 1101 1100010 11110111010 1111 1101 1011101 1111011111 1101010101 1001010101 1100111 110101111 1101001 1111010111 1001010101 1101110111 1101010111 1111011101 1101110101 111111 1101011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,082 |
Words | 389 |
Sentences | 38 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 10, 8, 12, 10, 9 |
Lines Amount | 57 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 268 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 61 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 2:01 min read
- 103 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"A Parental Ode to My Son, Aged 3 Years and 5 months" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/36625/a-parental-ode-to-my-son%2C-aged-3-years-and-5-months>.
Discuss this Thomas Hood poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In