Classic Poem

Now all aloud the wind and rain
Beat sharp upon the window pane,
And though 'tis hardly light,
I hear that little girl go by,
Who does ‘Fine watercresses’ cry,
Morning, and noon, and night.

I saw her pass by yesterday,
The snow upon the pavement lay,
Her hair was white with sleet;
She shook with cold, as she did cry,
‘Fine watercresses, come and buy,’
And naked were her feet.

And with one hand, so red and cold,
She did her tattered bonnet hold,
The other held her shawl,
Which was too thin to keep her warm,
But naked left each little arm,
It was so very small.

Her watercresses froze together,
Yet she, through the cold, bitter weather,
Went on from street to street:
And thus she goes out every day,
For she can earn no other way
The bread which she doth eat.