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Short poem

J. E. Ball (fl. 1904-1906)

The Violin

              1The Violin, all good musicians say,
              2    While yet in babyhood you must begin;
              3    And so, beneath my little rounded chin,
              4’Twas promptly tucked, and I began to play
              5                      The Violin.

              6No ear had I, or skill; but Discipline
              7    Recked not of that; and so I sawed away,
              8And rent the air with Purgatorial din;
              9    Pondering the while, profoundly, day by day,
            10Of dark recesses, secret nooks, wherein
            11    I might (with Providential aid) mislay
            12                      The Violin.


7] Recked: cared.

Online text copyright © 2004, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: The Westminster Problems Book: Prose and Verse, comp. N.G. Royde Smith, from The Sanctuary Westminster Gazette Competitions, 1904-1907 (London: Methuen, 1908): 250. Keynes J.5.8 Cambridge University Library
First publication date: 1906
RPO poem editor: Ian Lancashire
RP edition: 2004
Recent editing: 1:2004/5/19

Rhyme: abbab bababab

Other poems by J. E. Ball