The Happy Journalist
I love to walk about at nightBy nasty lanes and corners foul,All shielded from the unfriendly lightAnd independent as the owl.
By dirty grates I love to lurk;I often stoop to take a squintAt printers working at their work.I muse upon the rot they print.
The beggars please me, and the mud:The editors beneath their lampsAs--Mr Howl demanding blood,And Lord Retender stealing stamps,
And Mr Bing instructing liars,His elder son composing trash;Beaufort (whose real name is Meyers)Refusing anything but cash.
I like to think of Mr Meyers,I like to think of Mr Bing.I like to think about the liars:It pleases me, that sort of thing.
Policemen speak to me, but I,Remembering my civic rights,Neglect them and do not reply.I love to walk about at nights!
At twenty-five to four I bunchAcross a cab I can’t afford.I ring for breakfast after lunch.I am as happy as a lord!
Words in this poem
- bing n.
- A heap or pile; as, a bing of wood. [Cf. Icel. bingr, Sw. binge, G. beige, beuge. Cf. Prov. E. bink bench, and bench coal the uppermost stratum of coal.]
- civic a.
- Relating to, or derived from, a city or citizen; relating to man as a member of society, or to civil affairs. Civic crown (Rom. [L.civicus, fr. civis citizen. See City.]
- lunch n.
- A luncheon; specifically, a light repast between breakfast and dinner. [Of uncertain etymol. Cf. Prov. Eng. nunc a lump.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Happy Journalist is in the public domain. This text is taken from Sonnets and Verse, Project Gutenberg ebook #60663; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Hilaire Belloc, The Happy Journalist, in Sonnets and Verse (1923), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #60663, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/belloc-sonnets-verse/the-happy-journalist.html, id L21669.
Form and metre
The Happy Journalist is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABAB. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABAB nightA · foulB · lightA · owlB
- 2 ABAB lurkA · squintB · workA · printB
- 3 ABAB mudA · lampsB · bloodA · stampsB
- 4 ABAB liarsA · trashB · meyersA · cashB
- 5 ABAB meyersA · bingB · liarsA · thingB
- 6 ABAB iA · rightsB · replyA · nightsB
- 7 ABAB bunchA · affordB · lunchA · lordB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I love to walk about at night | 8 | ········ |
| By nasty lanes and corners foul, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| All shielded from the unfriendly light | 9 | ·/˘··˘/˘· |
| And independent as the owl. | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| By dirty grates I love to lurk; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I often stoop to take a squint | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| At printers working at their work. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| I muse upon the rot they print. | 8 | ········ |
| The beggars please me, and the mud: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The editors beneath their lamps | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| As--Mr Howl demanding blood, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| And Lord Retender stealing stamps, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And Mr Bing instructing liars, | 9 | ·/˘·˘/˘/˘ |
| His elder son composing trash; | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Beaufort (whose real name is Meyers) | 8 | /˘····/˘ |
| Refusing anything but cash. | 8 | ˘/˘/˘··· |
| I like to think of Mr Meyers, | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| I like to think of Mr Bing. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I like to think about the liars: | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| It pleases me, that sort of thing. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Policemen speak to me, but I, | 8 | ˘/˘····· |
| Remembering my civic rights, | 8 | ˘/˘˘·/˘· |
| Neglect them and do not reply. | 8 | ˘/····˘/ |
| I love to walk about at nights! | 8 | ········ |
| At twenty-five to four I bunch | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Across a cab I can’t afford. | 8 | ˘/····˘/ |
| I ring for breakfast after lunch. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I am as happy as a lord! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.