Analysis of The Poet, The Oyster, And Sensitive Plant
William Cowper 1731 (Berkhamsted) – 1800 (Dereham)
An Oyster, cast upon the shore,
Was heard, though never heard before,
Complaining in a speech well worded,
And worthy thus to be recorded:--
Ah, hapless wretch! condemn’d to dwell
For ever in my native shell;
Ordain'd to move when others please,
Not for my own content or ease;
But toss’d and buffeted about,
Now in the water and now out.
'Twere better to be born a stone,
Of ruder shape, and feeling none,
Than with a tenderness like mine,
And sensibilities so fine!
I envy that unfeeling shrub,
Fast rooted against every rub.
The plant he meant grew not far off,
And felt the sneer with scorn enough:
Was hurt, disgusted, mortified,
And with asperity replied
(When, cry the botanists, and stare,
Did plants call'd sensitive grow there?
No matter when—a poet's muse is
To make them grow just where she chooses):--
You shapeless nothing in a dish,
You that are but almost a fish,
I scorn your coarse insinuation,
And have most plentiful occasion
To wish myself the rock I view,
Or such another dolt as you:
For many a grave and learned clerk
And many a gay unletter'd spark,
With curious touch examines me,
If I can feel as well as he;
And when I bend, retire, and shrink,
Says--Well, 'tis more than one would think!
Thus life is spent (oh fie upon't!)
In being touch'd, and crying—Don’t!
A poet, in his evening walk,
O’erheard and check'd this idle talk.
And your fine sense, he said, and yours,
Whatever evil it endures,
Deserves not, if so soon offended,
Much to be pitied or commended.
Disputes, though short, are far too long,
Where both alike are in the wrong;
Your feelings in their full amount
Are all upon your own account.
You, in your grotto-work enclosed,
Complain of being thus exposed;
Yet nothing feel in that rough coat,
Save when the knife is at your throat,
Wherever driven by wind or tide,
Exempt from every ill beside.
And as for you, my Lady Squeamish,
Who reckon every touch a blemish,
If all the plants, that can be found
Embellishing the scene around,
Should droop and wither where they grow,
You would not feel at all--not you.
The noblest minds their virtue prove
By pity, sympathy, and love:
These, these are feelings truly fine,
And prove their owner half divine.
His censure reach’d them as he dealt it,
And each by shrinking show’d he felt it.
Scheme | AABCDDEEFFGHIIJJKLMMNNOPQQHHRRSTUUVVUBWWXXCBYYZZ1 1 2 2 MMQQ3 3 4 R5 6 II7 7 |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11010101 11110101 010001110 010111010 1101111 11001101 01111101 11111011 1100101 10010011 11011101 11010101 11010011 0010011 11010101 110011001 01111111 01011101 1101010 01010001 11010001 11110011 110101011 111111110 11010001 1111101 11110010 011100010 1110111 11010111 11001011 0100111 110010101 11111111 01110101 11111111 111111011 01010101 01001101 1011101 01111101 1010101 011111010 11111010 01111111 11011001 11001101 11011101 1011101 01110101 11010111 11011111 010101111 011100101 011111010 1101001010 11011111 01000101 11010111 11111111 01011101 11010001 11110101 01110101 110111111 011101111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,233 |
Words | 412 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 66 |
Lines Amount | 66 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,754 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 407 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 16, 2023
- 2:05 min read
- 45 Views
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