Classic Poem

Hard is my fate, thus to want bread;
Curse on the day that I did wed!
While single I had food to eat,
My labour still procured me meat;
In a good place I lived at ease,
No careful thoughts my mind to tease;
In peace enjoyed a plenteous board,
With even delicacies stored;
Till simple love, and mounting pride,
First drew my foolish thoughts aside;
Soothed my fond ears with flatt'ry's sound,
And whispered pleasures should abound;
Service I learned thus to detest,
A place was irksome to my breast,
Thoughts of dependence broke my rest.
A master soon became my dread —
I cried, " I'll work no more for bread;
I'll mistress of my actions move,
United to the man I love".
I longed to taste a marriage life,
So plunged into a sea of strife;
And thinking to become more free,
Gave up at once my liberty,
To thraldom and necessity;
Consented to accept a chain,
And let two tyrants o'er me reign —
Want and a husband, who still rule,
Confining me now passion's cool;
Distresses will affection damp,
Gold is the oil that feeds love's lamp.
Here horrors darken all the place,
There famine stares me in the face;
For bread my children loudly cry,
Which I am forced — forced to deny.

You're come — What, have you met success?
With aught will heav'n our wishes bless,
To mitigate our sharp distress? He
No; there's no diff'rence in our fate —
Famine does but procrastinate
That death which quickly must attend,
And in the grave my mis'ries end:
I come home empty as I went,
Only more tired, and less content. She
Is there no work then to be got? He
Not the least job — indeed there's not:
The masters say their shops are full,
And business either dead or dull;
" They've goods enough" is all their cry,
And yet no customers to buy;
Their correspondents daily break —
Their all's continually at stake;
Scarce any money circulates,
But paper due at distant dates;
Their debts are large, and they must stay,
For all are tardy now in pay:
Respecting debts, both great and small,
Happy to get them in at all;
Many as desp'rate are confessed,
And dubious e'en the very best. She
Ah! I believe my heart will break. He
You must these ills with patience take. She
Preach the sea calm, when the winds rage;
Can patience hungry mouths assuage?
Will patience gives your babes a meal,
Who all the pangs of famine feel?
For bread to me all day they cry,
While I cannot their wants supply,
Till through fatigue they fall asleep,
Then wake again to call and weep.
Will patience make your children still,
Or their poor empty bellies fill?
Our landlord, ask if he's content
Your patience to receive for rent;
The baker's bill will patience pay,
Or send the butcher pleased away?
While you are out in seeking work,
They join to use me like a Turk;
With threats and menaces pursue,
Of what they say they're bent to do;
In vain to them were patience thrown,
For frequently I lose my own. He
Alas! what would you have me do? She
Can't you some other trade pursue?
Perhaps you might some work obtain,
T' enable us to live again. He
'Tis all the same — all trades are dead;
Through town a gen'ral murmur's spread:
Besides, to take a trade in hand
I do not clearly understand —
Masters would call me stupid sot,
And say they've better workmen got;
" Think you," they'd say, " that we'll employ
A man our business to destroy?
Trade of itself is very lame;
You'd bring our shop at once to shame,
And hurt our credit and our name.
No, while good hands can be procured,
Bunglers ought not to be endured."
Such, such would be the master's song,
While thus the men would use their tongue:
" Business is not already bad,
Though there's scarce any to be had,
But you an interloper come
Where all is full, and there's no room.
Too indolent you seem to be,
For such still love variety;
And like a lounging lazy drone,
You steal our trade and quit your own."
Thus neither good success nor gains
Would recompense my honest pains. She
What can we do? — Have you no friends
For fortune's frowns to make amends?
None that, in this our scene of woe,
A little succour would bestow? He
I've tried them all a thousand ways;
All those who, in more prosp'rous days,
The firmest friendship to me swore,
And learned their bounty to implore;
But all in vain, their words were wind,
And, oh! their deeds — unkind, unkind.
It pains, it tortures me to speak
The cruelty I've met this week;
While I had money, I had friends,
Who meant to serve their private ends;
The friendship of these grov'ling men
Was to my circumstances then;
Now in the world no friendship reigns;
'Tis marred with interested stains;
And those who think this passion true,
An airy phantom but pursue;
Which when they vainly think they've caught,
Will 'scape them quick as nimble thought.
Of friendship judge by my success
In this our imminent distress:
The first whose heart I thought to touch
Was one who often promised much;
But he cried out with careless air,
" You're idle, that's the whole affair;
Do not on my good nature press;
I can't encourage idleness."
Another, fond of hoarded pelf,
Replied, " Indeed I'm poor myself."
One said, " You joke — you don't speak true,
I'm sure there's work enough to do;
Then learn to turn yourself about,
And seek some snug employment out;
Fortune will kindly for you carve:
While you have hands you cannot starve."
Another cried, " Why, go to sea,
You'll make yourself and family;
The sea you know will not refuse;
A better thing you cannot choose."
This asks me if I thought him mad,
To lend where matters were so bad;
And that was quite amazed to find
That he should come across my mind.
Thus all in diff'rent ways denied,
And bid me for myself provide;
And tried to hide ingratitude,
Beneath advice or sayings shrewd. She
Then at the last, what hope remains,
To end or mitigate our pains? He
There's one dull light to cheer our gloom;
A workhouse is our certain doom.
Thither we all, alas! must go,
Where death will quickly end my woe.