Analysis of Content, To My Dearest Lucasia



Content, the false World's best disguise,
The search and faction of the Wise,
Is so abstruse and hid in night,
That, like that Fairy Red-cross Knight,
Who trech'rous Falshood for clear Truth had got,
Men think they have it when they have it not.

For Courts Content would gladly own,
But she ne're dwelt about a Throne:
And to be flatter'd, rich, and great,
Are things which do Mens senses cheat.
But grave Experience long since this did see,
Ambition and Content would ne're agree.

Some vainer would Content expect
From what their bright Out-sides reflect:
But sure Content is more Divine
Then to be digg'd from Rock or Mine:
And they that know her beauties will confess,
She needs no lustre from a glittering dress.

In Mirth some place her, but she scorns
Th'assistance of such crackling thorns,
Nor owes her self to such thin sport,
That is so sharp and yet so short:
And Painters tell us, they the same strokes place
To make a laughing and a weeping face.

Others there are that place Content
In Liberty from Government:
But who his Passions do deprave,
Though free from shackles is a slave.
Content and Bondage differ onely then,
When we are chain'd by Vices, not by Men.

Some think the Camp Content does know,
And that she fits o'th' Victor's brow:
But in his Laurel there is seen
Often a Cypress-bow between.
Nor will Content herself in that place give,
Where Noise and Tumult and Destruction live.

But yet the most Discreet believe,
The Schools this Jewel do receive,
And thus far's true without dispute,
Knowledge is still the sweetest fruit.
But whil'st men seek for Truth they lose their Peace;
And who heaps Knowledge, Sorrow doth increase.

But now some sullen Hermite smiles,
And thinks he all the World beguiles,
And that his Cell and Dish contain
What all mankind wish for in vain.
But yet his Pleasure's follow'd with a Groan,
For man was never born to be alone.

Content her self best comprehends
Betwixt two souls, and they two friends,
Whose either joyes in both are fixed,
And multiply'd by being mixed:
Whose minds and interests are still the same;
Their Griefs, when once imparted, lose their name.

These far remov'd from all bold noise,
And (what is worse) all hollow joyes,
Who never had a mean design,
Whose flame is serious and divine,
And calm, and even, must contented be,
For they've both Union and Society.

Then, my Lucasia, we have
Whatever Love can give or crave;
With scorn or pity can survey
The Trifles which the most betray;
With innocence and perfect friendship fired,
By Vertue joyn'd, and by our Choice retired.

Whose Mirrours are the crystal Brooks,
Or else each others Hearts and Looks;
Who cannot wish for other things
Then Privacy and Friendship brings:
Whose thoughts and persons chang'd and mixt are one,
Enjoy Content, or else the World hath none.


Scheme AABBCC DDXXEE FFGGHH IIJJKK XXLLMM XXNNXX OOPPQQ XARRDD SSTTUU XAGGEE XLVVXX WWXXYY
Poetic Form
Metre 10011101 01010101 11010101 11110111 11111111 1111111111 11101101 111110101 01110101 11111101 11010011111 01001011101 1111001 11111101 11101101 11111111 0111010101 11110101001 01110111 1101011101 11011111 11110111 0101110111 1101000101 10111110 01001100 11110101 11110101 100101011 1111110111 11011011 0111111101 10110111 10010101 1110010111 1101000101 11010101 01110101 01110101 10110101 1111111111 0111010101 1111011 0111011 01110101 11111101 111110101 1111011101 1001101 01110111 11010111 011101 110101101 1111010111 11011111 01111101 11010101 111100001 0101010101 1111000100 11111 1011111 11110101 01010101 11000011010 1110110101 1110101 11110101 11011101 11000101 1101010111 0110110111
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 2,819
Words 495
Sentences 18
Stanzas 12
Stanza Lengths 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6
Lines Amount 72
Letters per line (avg) 31
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 183
Words per stanza (avg) 41
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 12, 2023

2:34 min read
119

Katherine Philips

Katherine Philips was an Anglo-Welsh poet, translator, and woman of letters. more…

All Katherine Philips poems | Katherine Philips Books

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