The Austen Family was known to be witty and loved the opportunity to engage in word play. Here are the results from various family members when challenged to write a poem that “Rhymed with Rose”.
This morning I ‘woke from a quiet repose,
I first rubb’d my eyes & I next blew my nose.
With my Stockings & Shoes I then cover’d my toes
And proceeded to put on the rest of my Cloathes.
This was finish’d in less than an hour I suppose;
I emply’d myself next in repairing my hose
‘Twas a work of necessity, not what I chose;
Of my sock I’d much rather have knit twenty Rows.–
My work being done, I looked through the windows
And with pleasure beheld all the Bucks & the Does,
The Cows & the Bullocks, the Wethers & Ewes.–
To the Lib’ry each mourn, all the Family goes,
So I went with the rest, though I felt rather froze.
My flesh is much warmer, my blood freer flows
When I work in the garden with rakes & with hoes.
And now I beleive I must come to a close,
For I find I grow stupid e’en while I compose;
If I write any longer my verse will be prose.
Miss Cassandra Austen
Love, they say is like a Rose;
I’m sure tis like the wind that blows,
For not a human creature knows
How it comes or where it goes.
It is the cause of many woes,
It swells the eyes & reds the nose,
And very often changes those
Who once were friends to bitter foes.
But let us now the scene transpose
And think no more of tears & throes.
Why may we not as well suppose
A smiling face the Urchin shows?
And when with joy: the Bosom glows,
And when the heart has full repose,
‘Tis Mutual Love the gift bestows.–
Mrs Elizabeth Austen
(wife of Edward Austen Knight)
Never before did I quarrel with a Rose
Till now that I am told some lines to compose,
Of which I shall have little idea Go knows!–
But since that the Task is assign’d me by those
To whom Love, Affection & Gratitude owes
A ready compliance, I feign would dispose
And call befriend me the Muse who bestows
The gift of Peotry both on Friends & Foes.–
My warmest acknowledgements are due to those
Who watched near my Ebd & soothed me to repose
Who pitied my sufferings & shared my woes,
And by their sympathy relieved my sorrows.
May I as long as the Blood in my veins flows
Feel the warmth of Love which now in my heart glows,
And may I sink into a refreshing Doze
When I lie my head on my welcome pillows.
Happy the lab’rer in his Sunday clothes!
In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn’d hose,
And hat upon his head, to church he goes;
As oft, with conscious pride, he downward throws
A glance upon the ample cabbage rose
That, stuck in button-hole, regales his nose,
He envies not the gayest London beaux.
In church he takes his seat among the rows,
Pays to the place the reverence he owes,
Likes best the prayers whose meaning least he knows,
Lists to the sermon in a softening doze,
And rouses joyous at the welcome close.