Miss Fanny’s Farewell Flowers
Not “the posie of a ring.”SHAKESPEARE (all but the not).
I came to town a happy man:I need not now dissembleWhy I return so sad at heart--It’s all through Fanny Kemble:Oh! when she threw her flowers away,What urged the tragic slut onTo weave in such a wreath as that,Ah me! a bachelor’s button.
None fought so hard, none fought so well,As I to gain some token--When all the pit rose up in arms,And heads and hearts were broken;“Huzza!” said I, “I’ll have a flowerAs sure as my name’s Dutton;”--I made a snatch--I got a catch--By Jove! a bachelor’s button!
I’ve lost my watch--my hat is smashed--My clothes declare the racket;I went there in a full dress coat,And came home in a jacket.My nose is swell’d--my eye is black--My lip I’ve got a cut on!Odds buds!--and what a bud to get--The deuce! a bachelor’s button!
My chest’s in pain; I really fearI’ve somewhat hurt my bellows,By pokes and punches in the ribsFrom those herb-strewing fellows.I miss two teeth in my front row;My corn has had a fut on;And all this pain I’ve had to gainThis cursed bachelor’s button.
Had I but won a rose--a bud--A pansy--or a daisy--A periwinkle--anything--But this--it drives me crazy!My very sherry tastes like squills,I can’t enjoy my mutton;And when I sleep I dream of it--Still--still----a bachelor’s button
My place is book’d per coach to-night,But oh, my spirit tremblesTo think how country friends will askOf Knowleses and of Kembles.If they should breathe about the wreath,When I go back to Sutton,I shall not dare to show my share,That all!--a bachelor’s button!
My luck in life was never good,But this my fate will burden:I ne’er shall like my farming more,--I know I shan’t the Garden.The turnips all may have the fly,The wheat may have the smut on,I care not,--I’ve a blight at heart,--Ah me!--a bachelor’s button!
Words in this poem
- dissemble v. t.
- To hide under a false semblance or seeming; to feign (something) not to be what it really is; to put an untrue appearance upon; to disguise; to mask. [OF. dissembler to be dissimilar; pref. dis- (L. dis-) + F. sembler to seem, L. simulare to simulate; cf. L. dissimulare to dissemble. See Simulate, and cf. Diss]
- huzza interj.
- A word used as a shout of joy, exultation, approbation, or encouragement. [Cf. G. hussa, husa, interj., hurrah, huzza. sq. root43. Cf. Hurrah.]
- jove n.
- The chief divinity of the ancient Romans; Jupiter. [L. Jupiter, gen. Jovis, OL. Jovis, nom. & gen. for Djovis; akin to E. Tuesday. See Tuesday, and cf. Jupiter.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- odds n.
- Difference in favor of one and against another; excess of one of two things or numbers over the other; inequality; advantage; superiority; hence, excess of chances; probability. [See Odd, a.]
- cursed a.
- Deserving a curse; execrable; hateful; detestable; abominable.
- mutton n.
- A sheep. Chapman. [OE. motoun, OF. moton, molton, a sheep, wether, F. mouton, LL. multo, by transposition of l fr. L. mutilus mutilated. See Mutilate.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Miss Fanny’s Farewell Flowers is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Comic Poems of Thomas Hood A New and Complete Edition, Project Gutenberg ebook #56712; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Hood, Miss Fanny’s Farewell Flowers, in Poems (1827–1845), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #56712, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hood-poems/miss-fanny-s-farewell-flowers.html, id L06757.
Form and metre
Miss Fanny’s Farewell Flowers is 58 lines in 8 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.6 syllables. 25 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 16% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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.
- 2 -A-A-B-B man · dissembleA · heart · kembleA · away · onB · that · buttonB
- 3 -A-A-B-B well · tokenA · arms · brokenA · flower · duttonB · catch · buttonB
- 4 -AAA-BAB smashed · racketA · coatA · jacketA · black · onB · getA · buttonB
- 5 -A-A-BBB fear · bellowsA · ribs · fellowsA · row · onB · gainB · buttonB
- 6 -A-A-B-B bud · daisyA · anything · crazyA · squills · muttonB · it · buttonB
- 7 -A-A-B-B night · tremblesA · ask · kemblesA · wreath · suttonB · share · buttonB
- 8 -A-A-A-A good · burdenA · more · gardenA · fly · onA · heart · buttonA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Not “the posie of a ring.” | 7 | ······· |
| SHAKESPEARE (all but the not). | 6 | /····· |
| I came to town a happy man: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I need not now dissemble | 7 | ····˘/˘ |
| Why I return so sad at heart-- | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| It’s all through Fanny Kemble: | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Oh! when she threw her flowers away, | 8 | ·····/˘/ |
| What urged the tragic slut on | 8 | ··˘·/˘·· |
| To weave in such a wreath as that, | 8 | ········ |
| Ah me! a bachelor’s button. | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| None fought so hard, none fought so well, | 8 | ········ |
| As I to gain some token-- | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| When all the pit rose up in arms, | 8 | ········ |
| And heads and hearts were broken; | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| “Huzza!” said I, “I’ll have a flower | 9 | ˘/·····/˘ |
| As sure as my name’s Dutton;”-- | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| I made a snatch--I got a catch-- | 8 | ········ |
| By Jove! a bachelor’s button! | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| I’ve lost my watch--my hat is smashed-- | 8 | ········ |
| My clothes declare the racket; | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| I went there in a full dress coat, | 8 | ········ |
| And came home in a jacket. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| My nose is swell’d--my eye is black-- | 8 | ········ |
| My lip I’ve got a cut on! | 7 | ······· |
| Odds buds!--and what a bud to get-- | 8 | ········ |
| The deuce! a bachelor’s button! | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| My chest’s in pain; I really fear | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I’ve somewhat hurt my bellows, | 7 | ·//··/˘ |
| By pokes and punches in the ribs | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| From those herb-strewing fellows. | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| I miss two teeth in my front row; | 8 | ········ |
| My corn has had a fut on; | 7 | ······· |
| And all this pain I’ve had to gain | 8 | ········ |
| This cursed bachelor’s button. | 8 | ··˘/˘˘/˘ |
| Had I but won a rose--a bud-- | 8 | ········ |
| A pansy--or a daisy-- | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| A periwinkle--anything-- | 7 | ·/˘˘/˘· |
| But this--it drives me crazy! | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| My very sherry tastes like squills, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| I can’t enjoy my mutton; | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| And when I sleep I dream of it-- | 8 | ········ |
| Still--still----a bachelor’s button | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| My place is book’d per coach to-night, | 8 | ········ |
| But oh, my spirit trembles | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| To think how country friends will ask | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Of Knowleses and of Kembles. | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| If they should breathe about the wreath, | 8 | ········ |
| When I go back to Sutton, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| I shall not dare to show my share, | 8 | ········ |
| That all!--a bachelor’s button! | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| My luck in life was never good, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But this my fate will burden: | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| I ne’er shall like my farming more,-- | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I know I shan’t the Garden. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| The turnips all may have the fly, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The wheat may have the smut on, | 7 | ······· |
| I care not,--I’ve a blight at heart,-- | 8 | ········ |
| Ah me!--a bachelor’s button! | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
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